


Tainted Love

by xXxTrashQueenexXx



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gang Rape, Graphic Violence, I hurt him because I love him, Iggy gets hurt a lot, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, It Gets Better, M/M, Slow Burn, So does Gladio, Unrequited Love, Violence, and then horrible things happen to them both, and they hate each other for a bit, because their love is so strong, but they get over it, don't like don't read okay, especially to Iggy, he just hasn't said it yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-03-10 05:04:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13495510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXxTrashQueenexXx/pseuds/xXxTrashQueenexXx
Summary: Ignis asks Gladio to come with him exploring some ruins, and all seems to be going just swell. It's the first time they've spent any time together in months and even though they didn't find anything in the ruins it doesn't matter.But then their happy little camp is interrupted, and both of their lives will be affected forever.Chapter 5: Gladio and Iggy deal with their demons in Lestallum - separately.





	1. Chapter One

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it.” Gladio grunted and leaned his shoulder into the rubble blocking their exit to shift it a half inch to the left. “Shit happens, right?”

“I was positive we’d find the information we were looking for,” Ignis said. “The message from that hunter said these ruins...”

Gladio grunted, turning to push with his back. “Give it a rest, Iggs, I’m not mad. There’s no way you could’ve known there was nothing here until you explored it.”

“But I’ve wasted so much of your time.”

“You didn’t waste my time,” Gladio said with a breathless laugh.

Not that it was easy getting here. They’d driven three hours from Hammerhead, and then they spent another hour and a half trekking through the woods deep in the Malacchi Hills. Gladio couldn’t say for sure how long they’d been cramming themselves through narrow passageways and puzzling over faded inscriptions. It could have been a day, he figured. He was bone-tired, and hungry enough to eat an entire leg of garulessa, and so drenched with sweat his clothes stuck to his skin, but he didn’t regret a single minute of it. It was the most time he’d spent with Ignis in six months. They’d been so busy with their own stuff that their paths didn’t cross much nowadays.

So when Ignis called to ask if Gladio would join him on an expedition, Gladio jumped at the chance. He’d said yes before he even knew all the details. 

“It will be dangerous,” Ignis had cautioned, as if that would ever deter him, “but I’m afraid you’re the only one I trust to get me in and out of there in one piece,”

The ruins didn’t have a name, Ignis had told him. They were overgrown, and there was no reference to them in any of the texts he’d read. Finding the place would be difficult. Maybe impossible. So they’d packed four days’ worth of food and potions, just in case, and set off with nothing but a compass and a dead hunter’s questionable directions to guide them. They’d driven as far as they could, then left the car parked behind a wall of bushes a few miles from where they eventually, miraculously, found the ruins. 

Next to him, Ignis sighed and rolled up his sleeves. “I suppose I may as well help.”

“I got it, Iggs.”

Ignis tutted and felt the air until his hand found Gladio’s bare arm. Like always, his touch sent a pleasant shiver down Gladio’s spine. They’d touched more times than he could count since Altissia, but he couldn’t get enough of being close to Ignis. He took a deep, calming breath and moved over to make room for Ignis against the boulder.

“On the count of three?” Ignis said, pressing his shoulder to the stone.

“Yeah,” Gladio said. 

They pushed together, grunting and straining, and slowly the slab of stone moved. Within ten minutes, they’d got it to budge enough to squeeze through. Gladio chucked his pack through the hole in the ceiling before pulling himself up and into the dark woods. He could hear imps skittering and chirping somewhere unseen, but at least the air here was crisper. He sucked in a lungful before turning to grasp Ignis' hand, hoisting him out of the ruin’s depths.

“Thank you,” Ignis said, adjusting his glasses as he straightened.

“No problem.” Gladio didn’t let go of Ignis' hand until he was sure the other man was steady on his feet, and he still let his touch linger a little longer than he should. “Man, I’m beat. Why did we have to park the car so far away?”

Ignis smiled. “It’s only three miles, Gladio.”

“Yeah but then I have to drive for three hours,” he grumbled. He slung the pack over his shoulder and started to move, keeping close to Ignis in case he tripped over a stone or an exposed root. “Shit. Why isn’t teleportation a thing?”

“Technological development slows down somewhat in a post-apocalyptic world,” Ignis said, and Gladio caught the wry smile that crossed his face.

Their shoulders bumped together as they walked. Comfortable. When they reached a drop-off of a couple feet, Gladio took Ignis' hand again and helped him down, then he placed his own hand on Ignis’ back until he’d found his footing.

“I think I saw a haven on the way in,” Gladio said. “If we go a little further northeast from here, we should find it.”

“We could…” Ignis said slowly.

“I have our sleeping bags in the pack,” Gladio cajoled. “No tent, but it’s not that cold out. We can get a fire going and sleep next to it. It’ll be safe, I promise.”

“I guess if you really are too tired to go on…” Ignis said and bit his lip.

They veered off the path. Gladio held Ignis' arm as they cut through the underbrush, leading him around trees and uneven areas of the ground. He snapped a few dead branches off trees as he went. Before long, he could see the glow of runes through the foliage and he picked up the pace, hand still on Ignis' arm, until they were climbing up onto the haven. He groaned and dropped his pack next to the fire pit and sat down heavily beside it.

“I think my feet are going to fall off,” he said.

“Well we can’t have that,” Ignis said dryly, reaching out to pet Gladio’s head fondly. His aim was off by just a fraction, and Gladio felt Ignis’ fingers sink into his hair as he adjusted his position by that small degree. It sent electricity down Gladio’s spine.

Nerves tingling, Gladio fished his phone out of his pocket and woke the display. Nine hours had passed since they’d gone into the ruins. He could sleep like the dead. But first, food.

He opened his pack and pulled out a few strips of beef jerky, some mushrooms, half a loaf of bread, and some cheese. Dividing it up, he gave half to Ignis.

“You might unroll the sleeping bags before we eat,” Ignis said, ignoring his own advice and tearing a piece off the jerky with his teeth. “It would be more comfortable than sitting on the ground.”

Gladio sighed, the nostalgic sensation of being told what to do by Ignis returning to him, and uncliped the sleeping bags from his pack. He handed one to Ignis before he unrolled the other with a flick, spreading it out next to the fire pit. As Ignis more fastidiously laid out his own, Gladio arranged the branches on the fire pit, tore a few sheets of paper out of Ignis' notebook, and dug a box of matches out of the pack. Within minutes, they had a campfire.

Ignis sat cross-legged on his sleeping bag, long limbs folded gracefully under him, the glow of the flames playing over his face. “Well, I suppose we’re back to square one,” Ignis said.

“Yeah,” Gladio agreed. “Not the end of the world, though. Plenty more ruins out there to discover.”

“Are you saying you’d like to join me on another adventure?” Ignis asked, his voice lilting and relaxed.

Gladio laughed. “I’d go anywhere with you. You know that.”

Ignis laughed softly, his fingers playing nervously with the mushroom he held. The firelight illuminated the side of his face, and Gladio saw a smudge of dirt on his cheek that he hadn’t noticed when they were walking through the dark woods. He leaned forward and rubbed at it with his thumb, the rest of his hand cradling Ignis' face. Ignis parted his lips, his milky eye widening. 

_I’m in love with you_ , Gladio couldn’t help thinking as he pulled his hand away again, slowly.

“What was that for?” Ignis asked, his voice quiet.

“Nothing,” Gladio said,thankful for the darkness and Ignis’ blindness hiding his blushing as he drew back. “You just had something on your cheek.”

“Ah.” Was that disappointment in his voice? Gladio wasn’t sure. Ignis started to break his bread into bite-size chunks before his back straightened and he said, “Well, we _were_ crawling around in a ruin for the better part of a day. Your face is probably filthy too.”

“Maybe,” Gladio conceded. Hell, it probably was, the rest of him sure wasn’t sparkling clean. “Hey, Iggs….” A thought struck him. “Why are you into ruins all of a sudden?”

It could have been a trick of the firelight, but Gladio would swear he saw Ignis’ jaw tense and his knuckles go white around the bread he was holding. It was a weird reaction. 

“You okay?” Gladio asked.

Ignis shook himself. “Fine,” he said, “fine.” He gave a small shake of his head, shoving a piece of bread into his mouth and chewing for a minute, swallowing before he added: “I was hoping the ruins would tell me something about how to stop the Starscourge. Maybe we can put an end to it before His Highness returns.”

Gladio laughed, fondly. That sounded like something Ignis would do. “You’re always two steps ahead.”

“I suppose.” Ignis didn’t sound convinced, and Gladio could see the morose displeasure practically radiate off him.

“Did you find anything?” he asked.

“Pardon?”

“In the ruins,” Gladio clarified, his voice falling until it was soft, almost sympathetic. “Have you found anything?”

“Oh...no. I’m afraid not.” Ignis cleared his throat and absently brushed at the front of his shirt. “And what about you, Gladio?” he asked, his voice and his smile picking up again. “What have you been up to?”

Gladio stretched one of his legs out on the sleeping bag, wiggling the toes that had started to fall asleep. He didn’t know how to answer that one. His days blurred into each other, one after the other - fighting daemons, patching up fellow hunters, teaching Iris how to fight. On every single one of those days, he’d missed Ignis. Not desperately, but the advisor’s absence was constantly in his thoughts, casting a shadow over his mind.

“Iris is getting pretty good at fighting,” he said. “I’ve been training her.”

Ignis arched an eyebrow. “I thought you were vehemently opposed to letting her hunt?”

Gladio grimaced at the reminder, but he laughed awkwardly anyway. “I am, but she begged and begged. I couldn’t say no.” He shrugged. “If I didn’t do it she’d have got someone else to teach her behind my back. At least if she’s with me, I figure she can’t get into too much trouble.”

“Ah, yes,” Ignis teased, “ever the watchful big brother.”

Gladio nudged his arm, and grinned when Ignis nudged him back. “You know me.” 

“Unfortunately,” Ignis drawled, although the flash of white teeth gave away the smile that followed. “Have you seen much of Prompto?”

“I’ve hunted with him once or twice,” Gladio admitted. Prompto kept around Cindy, although as far as Gladio could make out, he hadn’t actually done anything about that terrible crush of his yet. Not that Gladio could really criticise on that front. “But I’m always on the road, so there isn’t much time to catch up.” 

“An unfortunate symptom of our...” Ignis paused mid-sentence and cocked his head. “Do you hear that?”

Gladio listened, but he could only hear the crackling campfire and a bunch of dead leaves rustling on the forest floor. He knew better than to doubt Ignis. Ignis couldn’t see, but his other senses were way sharper than anyone else’s, himself included.

“Voices,” Ignis said. 

“Probably just some other hunters,” Gladio said, throwing his last mushroom into his mouth and peering out into the forest in the direction that held Ignis’ attention.

“Most likely,” Ignis carefully agreed.

Now Gladio could hear them too. If he strained he could see five figures emerging from the dark woods but he couldn’t really distinguish one from the other at this distance. As they drew closer, probably drawn by the light of the runes and the smell of the fire, he could make out a little more. One of them was short and stocky, another one bald. They were all bulky with muscle, that much he could tell. He watched them approach, raising a hand in greeting.

“There are three of them?” Ignis asked under his breath.

“Five,” Gladio corrected, quietly. 

He saw Ignis' lips purse and nearly told him not to sweat it. That Ignis could tell it was a group was impressive enough when he was doing it on hearing alone. 

“Mind if we share?” one of the men asked, distracting Gladio from his train of thought. “There’s a Red Giant lurking back that way,” he added, jabbing a thumb back over his shoulder, “and we’re too worn out to handle it right now.”

Gladio did mind. Their camp wasn’t much to look at, but it was theirs, and precious time together. Between the smiles and the teasing he’d nearly resolved to stop being like Prompto and just ask Ignis out in the morning, and maybe with a little more time he could convince himself it was a good idea. He couldn’t turn hunters away from a haven, though, not for the sake of asking his best friend out on a date. 

“We’ve got plenty of room,” he answered, giving a one shouldered shrug and resolving to ask Ignis later anyway, when they were in the car.

The speaker, Gladio wasn’t sure if he was the leader or not yet, stepped up onto the haven stone. He was dressed in hunters garb, the colors washed away by the firelight so Gladio could only tell he was wearing a dark shirt and darker jeans. A knife was strapped to his leg, hilt readily accessible, and he had a bandana knotted around his upper arm. Gladio couldn’t be sure whether he was using it to bandage a wound, or if he just thought it was cool. 

“Thanks,” Bandana said, as the others walked onto the haven too. Gladio saw his eyes land on Ignis and stick there. “Dangerous world out there, y’know?”

Ignis seemed to be able to feel the look he was getting, or maybe he just knew. Maybe he was used to being stared at by people that had never seen him and his scars before and he just expected it now. 

He lifted his chin and said, “We know.” 

Gladio recognized the tone, and he had to fight to keep the smile off his face as Ignis told these men that he knew they were staring with nothing more than the clipped pronunciation of two short words.

The man gave a laugh, but it didn’t sound nervous or amused, and the look he was giving Ignis turned critical. “Yeah, you look like you do,” he said, and something about his tone, mixed with his look, sent an uncomfortable jolt of warning down Gladio’s spine.

The other men fanned out around the haven. Ignis and Gladio didn’t take up much space and they only had their sleeping bags next to each other near the fire and Gladio’s pack tucked out of the way behind them. It felt like being surrounded as one of the hunters, a man with close cropped hair and a tattoo of a mermaid coiled around one arm, got closer than necessary. He had a gun strapped to the side of his ribs and a knife sheathed on his leg. The smile he wore didn’t reach his eyes.

“Got any food to share? Supplies?” he asked as he eyed Gladio’s pack. Gladio shook his head, folding his arms across his chest, and Mermaid Tattoo’s eyes flicked up to look at Ignis. “Nothing at all?”

“Sorry, dude, we only brought enough food to get us back to civilization,” Gladio said.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get real. How can anything ever be the same again?

Mermaid Tattoo nodded and turned back to his buddies, his eyes lingering on Ignis. Gladio didn’t like it, something about the look making the hair prickle on the back of his neck. He moved to stand a little closer to Ignis, close enough that their arms brushed together. As soon as Ignis felt Gladio’s sleeve against him, he turned and brought his mouth to Gladio’s ear one hand coming up to rest on his bicep.

“I don’t like this,” he murmured. 

“Me neither,” Gladio admitted, “but they won’t do anything to us. They’re probably as wary of us as we are of them.”

Ignis shook his head. “There’s something in their voices, Gladio,” he pressed, in hushed tones. “I think we should leave.”

Gladio shivered as Ignis' hair brushed his cheek, the involuntary reaction running down his spine. “Don’t worry. All they want is something to eat and somewhere to lay their heads. If it starts to go south, I’ll handle it.”

He isn’t sure exactly how he’s going to handle it though. Telling five hunters to fuck off and find somewhere else to spend the night would be a recipe for disaster. Resources and shelter were hard to come by these days, especially out in the wilderness where there was no light. Gladio had heard stories about bodies found at campsites with their throats cut and packs and pockets emptied of supplies. It was what happened when those with the scourge were left to fend for themselves, he’d reasoned, or when anyone was desperate enough to survive that they’d do whatever they had to. It didn’t mean these guys were the type to do that to fellow hunters, no matter how much they were unsettling Ignis, and himself. 

Still, his instincts were telling him to be on alert, and it looked like Iggy’s were doing the same to him. It would be stupid to ignore them when there was no way of really knowing. If it came to a fight, he could probably take a few of them down. But he couldn’t take all five, not even with Ignis to back him up.

Violence was the last resort. It would be better to talk things out calmly if these guys became a problem.

“Look, we’re happy to share our campfire with you,” Gladio said, stepping forward to stand half in front of Ignis. “But we don’t have much else to offer you. We already ate our food.”

“That so?” The one with the handlebar mustache swaggered forward, his body language that bit too sure of himself, one hand on the gun holstered on his belt. “So you won’t mind if we have a look in your bag?”

Gladio narrowed his eyes. There was something to be said for instincts. “Yeah, I mind,” he answered. “That’s my property.”

Handlebar Mustache glanced at Mermaid Tattoo, who nodded. The next thing Gladio knew, he was staring down the barrel of a gun as the bald one (Cue Ball, Gladio thought) grabbed his pack and dumped its contents onto the haven floor. There were five potions, a remedy and a few strips of jerky in there. Cue Ball made a sound of disgust and bent to pick up one of the potions.

“Empty your pockets,” he barked at them.

Gladio didn’t move, and when Ignis started to turn his own inside out, Gladio grabbed his arm to stop him. They weren’t about to give in that easily. His lip curling, Handlebar Mustache pulled back the hammer of his gun. The sound of it clicking barely audible over the crackle of the fire, but the soft sound set off alarm bells in Gladio’s brain. 

“I said empty them,” Cue Ball snapped.

Gladio’s blood ran cold. Next to him, Ignis turned his pockets inside-out pulling out nothing but a few coins and a tuft of lint. Reluctantly Gladio did the same. It wasn’t just the principle of the thing. It was also because he had a coin bag with two hundred and fifty gil in it. He held it out to them, and Cue Ball grabbed it from his hand, pulled it open and dumped the coins into his palm.

“How much?” Mermaid Tattoo asked picking under his thumbnail with the tip of his knife.

“Two-fifty,” Cue Ball said in disgust. He poured the coins back into the bag, closed it and tossed it to Shorty, who caught it and tucked it into his back pocket. “What else do you have?” Cue Ball demanded, turning his attention back to Gladio.

“I told you. That’s it,” Gladio snapped.

Inwardly, he was glad they’d left their car keys in the wheel well. They’d done it so they wouldn’t lose them when they were crawling around the dungeon, but now there was an added benefit neither of them could have anticipated. These assholes wouldn’t know they had a car. They wouldn’t be left here stranded, in the middle of fucking nowhere with nothing but their weapons and the clothes on their backs.

Mermaid Tattoo paused. “Are you telling me you came all the way out here with nothing but a few potions?” His lip curled up in a disbelieving sneer. “Are you suicidal, or just stupid?”

“Maybe we’re just better hunters than you.”

Snarling, Cue Ball punched him in the jaw. Gladio stumbled into Ignis, nearly knocking them both down, but Ignis grabbed onto him with a steadying hand. He could taste blood. He must have bitten his tongue somehow. He spat it out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his ears ringing.

“Shut the fuck up,” Cue Ball growled.

His blood roaring in his ears, heart pounding in his chest like he was facing a herd of pissed off garula, Gladio watched as Bandana stepped up to Mermaid Tattoo and murmured something in his ear. Gladio couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he didn’t like this. Mermaid Tattoo nodded, his lips twisting into a cruel smile. Gladio liked the look of that even less. He put a hand on Ignis' shoulder, his fingers squeezing gently, and straightened up.

“Look, we don’t have anything else to give you,” Gladio said. “Just take the potions and go.”

“It’s not enough,” Mermaid Tattoo said, and then pointed his knife at Ignis, “so we’re going to take him.”

Before Gladio could even register what the fuck he meant, Shorty and Cue Ball grabbed Ignis by the shirt, pulling him away from Gladio’s side. Ignis made a choked sound of surprise and started to fight, twisting to escape their grasp, throwing out an elbow only to meet nothing. Cue Ball backhanded him across the face, the smack as he made contact echoing into the night, and Ignis staggered into the dirt, landing hard on his side.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Gladio demanded, starting forward instinctively. 

Handlebar Mustache shoved the gun in his face bringing him to a dead halt. He could only watch, his stomach flip flopping all over the place, as Ignis moved to crawl to his feet. A kick to the ribs sent him sprawling again, leaving him wheezing. Shorty and Cue Ball stood over him and laughed.

“Get his clothes off,” Bandana growled. He rubbed a hand over the crotch of his pants, baring his teeth in a wolfish grin. One of them gleamed gold in the firelight. “All of them.”

Shorty dug the toe of his boot into Ignis' side and rolled him onto his back. For a second, Gladio thought Ignis was going to lie there and let them do what they wanted, but as soon as Shorty reached for him, knife in hand, Ignis summoned his daggers. The tip of one of them caught Shorty across the cheek. He swore, stumbling, and clapped a hand to his face. Ignis scrambled to his feet, holding one of his daggers in front of him. Gladio could see he was breathing hard. He turned his head, tracking the sound of Shorty’s footsteps on the haven floor, his tongue darting out nervously to wet his lips.

Gladio wanted to help, but Handlebar Mustache wasn’t watching anything but Gladio, his gun trained between Gladio’s eyes. So he balled his fists at his sides and gritted his teeth, inwardly urging Ignis on, watching him square off all alone against these guys.

“Let’s talk about this,” Ignis said, and Gladio didn’t know how the hell he kept his voice so steady after that kick to the ribs. “We have more supplies and gil back at Hammerhead. If you take us there—”

“You think I was born yesterday?” Mermaid Tattoo replied. 

He snapped his fingers at Shorty, who lunged for Ignis. But Ignis heard it coming and sidestepped at the last second, as graceful as a swan. His blade caught Shorty across the arm. It didn’t bite deep enough to really hurt him, but it was enough to make him bleed, and Gladio felt the thrill of pride run down his spine. 

It was short lived. Shorty howled and came at Ignis again, and Gladio could see that Ignis was so preoccupied with fending him off that it gave Cue Ball the opening he needed. Gladio started to shout a warning, but it was already too late. Cue Ball punched Ignis in the back of the head, and when Ignis pitched forward, Shorty’s fist caught him in the jaw. 

Ignis went down with a grunt, his daggers clattering out of his hands. Cue Ball kicked them away with a snarl, and when Ignis grasped for them, Cue Ball stepped on his wrist, crushing the bones under the heel of his boot. Ignis cried out. Gladio moved, desperate to help him, but Handlebar Mustache pressed the barrel of the gun between his eyes, forcing him to take a step back.

“Try that again, and I’ll blow your fucking head off,” he growled. Gladio flashed his teeth in a snarl in response, but he backed up another half step, until the cold metal of the gun no longer pressed into his skin.

On the other side of the campfire, Bandana grabbed Ignis by the hair, jerking his head up and delivered another vicious punch to his face, right across the jaw on the scarred side. Blood spattered on the stone ground. Ignis groaned. His fingers scrabbled at Bandana’s wrist, the movement weak and less coordinated than it would have been. It looked like Ignis was trying to push him away, but Bandana held him tight. 

“Yeah?” Bandana said, shaking Ignis by the head. “We go to Hammerhead with you guys, and then what? You’re going to hand over everything you own, just like that? I don’t think so.”

He hit Ignis again, letting the movement throw Ignis to the floor, and Ignis just lay there dazed, his mouth and chin smeared with blood. Bandana grabbed the collar of his shirt and started to cut it open, baring Ignis' chest with hacks of his blade, slicing the buttons off, pushing the fabric apart as he went. It had been a long time since Gladio last saw the smooth swaths of scar tissue on Ignis’ collarbone and shoulder. This wasn’t how he wanted to see them again, with a bunch of strange men standing over him like pigs at the trough, waiting for their dinner.

“ _Stop_ ,” Gladio said. “Don’t hurt him. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Mermaid Tattoo raised an eyebrow at him, looking him up and down. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“That you’re a bunch of sick fucks?” Gladio snapped back. “Yeah I think that’s pretty clear.”

Handlebar Mustache growled and jammed the barrel of his gun hard into Gladio’s forehead again, pushing him off balance. Gladio swallowed and raised his hands, placating. He didn’t care if they wanted to have a go at him, so long as they stopped having a go at Ignis, but he didn’t want to piss them off into taking it out on Ignis.

“I don’t want to fuck you,” Mermaid Tattoo said, like he was explaining to an idiot child. “You aren’t pretty enough, and besides...” He pointed his knife at Ignis. “He won’t be able to see it. That kind of ruins the fun, doesn’t it? So what we’re going to do is fuck him, over and over, and you’re going to watch. How does that sound?”

Gladio’s stomach lurched, and he looked from Mermaid Tattoo to Bandana, who was going at Ignis' clothes with a leer on his face. Fuck, he was going to be sick. They were going to rape Ignis right in front of him, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it except get one or both of them shot. He balled his hands again to stop them from shaking and to stop himself from going for Handlebar Mustache’s gun. Getting a hole blown through his forehead wouldn’t help Ignis. But neither would standing around like a useless asshole.

“Please don’t do this,” he said, not caring that he was pleading, almost begging. “I swear, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll suck your dicks. I’ll go to Hammerhead and give you every last gil I have. Anything, just let him go.”

Bandana hesitated, glancing up at Mermaid Tattoo. But Mermaid Tattoo just waved a hand at him, and Bandana went back to what he was doing, ripping the rest of Ignis' shirt open before he went for his belt. Under him, Ignis seemed to be coming back to himself. He lifted his head, his free hand coming up to claw at Bandana’s face but Bandana just pushed it back to the ground like it was nothing, and Shorty stepped on his wrist to pin it there. Ignis hissed, trying to pull his arm free, and Gladio watched Shorty press harder with his foot until Ignis gave a gasp of pain.

Bandana made quick work of Ignis' pants, yanking them off along with his underwear. Snarling and naked, Ignis kicked at him, thrashing against the two men holding him down. Bandana just laughed and tossed Ignis' clothes aside.

“Who gets first go, boss?” Bandana asked, glancing up at Mermaid Tattoo. The eager tilt of his voice made Gladio’s stomach roil. “You wanna watch for a bit?”

“I should go first,” Cue Ball said. “The son of a bitch cut my arm and my face open.”

“And I’m the one who took him down. I should go first.”

“Like hell!”

They started to argue, all of them except Handlebar Mustache, who kept his gun and his eyes trained on Gladio. This was probably the best chance Gladio was going to get if he wanted to turn things around. In a snap, he grabbed Handlebar Mustache’s hand and shoved it up pointing the gun skyward. It fired. Gladio didn’t stop to see what the others were doing. He and Handlebar Mustache started to grapple, fighting for control of the gun. If he couldn’t get the whole thing away from him, he could at least force him to empty it of bullets. 

For a skinny guy, skinnier than Gladio anyway, Handlebar Mustache was almost as strong. He just wasn’t strong enough to overpower him without the help of a pistol. While his attention was focused on the gun, Gladio headbutted him and Handlebar Mustache staggered, cursing. He didn’t let go, and Gladio tried to grab it, fighting to peel Handlebar Mustache’s fingers away from the grip.

Another gunshot split the night, and Ignis screamed. 

The sound sent a wave of ice over Gladio, and he looked up to see Ignis writhing off the ground, his scream giving way to strained groans as blood poured from a wound in his calf. One of those fuckers had actually had the balls to shoot him, and now Mermaid Tattoo was standing, his gun trained on Ignis while he looked coldly at Gladio. The message was clear. Gladio released Handlebar Mustache and put his hands up. He backed away two steps, his heart pounding so hard and fast he felt dizzy and couldn’t think straight. Handlebar Mustache came with him, jabbing the barrel of his gun hard into Gladio’s throat.

“You’d better fucking behave,” Handlebar Mustache growled. “And you’d better fucking watch. We’ll shoot him in the head if you don’t.”

Shaking with rage, Gladio forced himself to look from Handlebar Mustache to the scene unfolding in front of him. Mermaid Tattoo had holstered his gun again, and stood with his arms crossed, watching his guys manhandle Ignis like he was a surveyor at a construction site. Bandana and Cue Ball grabbed Ignis by the arms and legs and rolled him onto his stomach, holding him down when he started to fight under them again. They’d beaten him almost unconscious, but it looked like Ignis still had some fight left in him. Gladio couldn’t help feeling a little bit of grim pride about it. At least Ignis wasn’t going down easy.

Despite Ignis’ weak thrashing, Bandana managed to get him on his knees with his face pushed into the ground. He forced Ignis’ thighs apart to get to his...

Bile rose up Gladio’s throat, making him gag, but he swallowed it. No matter how hard it was to watch this, what was going to happen to Ignis was a million times worse. Just a few feet away, Cue Ball held Ignis down by his head, chuckling darkly, while Bandana spat in his palm, using it to slick up his dick. It wouldn’t be enough to make what he was about to do easy on Ignis. Not nearly enough. 

“Don’t do this?” he pleaded, feeling weak, and pathetic, and fucking useless. Handlebar Mustache just grinned at him, a sick sort of pleasure obvious in his expression. The rest ignored him. Bandana hooked a thumb between Ignis’ cheeks and spread him open, and Ignis cried out, his body arching as Bandana stabbed one finger viciously inside him.

“What’s that?” Bandana shoved another finger in along with the first. “I need you to say it a little louder for me, sweetheart.”

Ignis hissed and even from where he was being held at gunpoint, Gladio could see the tear that slipped out from under the lid of his scarred eye. He had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying too. Watching them do this to Ignis, watching them use him like he was nothing more than a toy was too much for him to take. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Handlebar Mustache smirking. He wanted to wipe that smirk away permanently, preferably with his fists.

“Just do it already,” Cue Ball snapped. He had a handful of Ignis’ hair and was using it to grind his cheek into the haven floor. 

“No need to rush. We’ve got all night.”

“We have to get back to Lestallum before…”

“No personal information,” Mermaid Tattoo snapped. He motioned with his chin at Bandana. “Get on with it.”

Bandana nodded. Gladio wanted to look away so bad, but with the gun on him he didn’t dare. He could only watch as Bandana grabbed Ignis by the hips and shoved his cock into him, forcing himself in all the way to the hilt and drawing a strangled yell out of Ignis’ throat. Gladio had never heard him make a sound like that before. His stomach roiled and the world spun. Black spots dotted his vision. Somehow, Handlebar Mustache got behind him, grasping him by the hair and pushing the barrel of the gun into the side of his neck.

“Oh yeah,” Bandana groaned, arching his head back as he started to fuck Ignis, his fingers digging cruelly into Ignis’ hips. “You’re in for a treat, boys,” Bandana said, with a nasty grin, “he takes a cock so good.” Gladio saw Ignis’ lips curl, baring his teeth in a snarl of disgust, and pain. The sound of Bandana’s hips slapping against Ignis’ ass, and his every grunt, and the little choked cries Ignis made at each thrust had Gladio ready to puke again. Looking at Ignis, feeling so useless to him, hurt too much, so he looked at Cue Ball’s face instead, and Shorty’s, and Mermaid Tattoo’s, memorizing all of them so he’d remember to kill them if they ever crossed paths again.

If they got out of this alive.

“You feel real good, baby,” Bandana crooned, dragging his fingernails down Ignis’ back and his hips still pounding out a steady rhythm. “Real good.”

Ignis gritted his teeth, one hand clawing uselessly at the smooth stone of the haven. Ignis was a fighter, and like any fighter, his instinct was to struggle to the death. But this had to be killing him inside. There were so few times in his life that Ignis was _this_ helpless. More than anything Gladio wanted to save him, to stop all this from happening, but when he stepped forward, instinct moving his feet before his mind could intervene, Handlebar Mustache dug the gun harder into Gladio’s neck and said “ah-ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Meanwhile, Bandana fucked away at Ignis, grunting and sweating, his hips moving faster and harder, one hand clutching at the hair at the nape of Ignis’ neck. Ignis kept making little sounds, horrible choked sounds, like he was trying to stop himself from making any noise at all. Gladio’s own throat was closing up, his heart already shattered, his stomach falling through his gut leaving him hollow. There was nothing fair about this. They’d been minding their own business, catching up on old times, just enjoying each other’s company and these assholes had come and ripped it all away. 

He’d never be able to look at Ignis again without thinking about this night. In the back of his head would always live this picture of Ignis on his hands and knees, crying and bleeding with some random guy’s dick shoved in his ass.

It seemed like forever before Bandana finally came, grunting like a hog and fucking Ignis with a few deep, final thrusts before pulling out. A few drops of jizz spattered on the ground, but Gladio didn’t have a lot of time to be disgusted about it before Bandana moved aside and Shorty took his place. 

He knelt and rammed his cock into Ignis without preamble, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him upright, to his knees. Ignis cried out again, then bared his teeth, one hand grappling and scratching at Shorty’s where it was tangled in his locks. Not that it did him any good. Cue Ball slapped the hand away and stepped up to Ignis, until his crotch was only inches from his face. Gladio didn’t think he could feel any more sick. He felt his own knees buckling, too weak with grief and sickness to stand, and fought against it. If it wasn’t for Handlebar Mustache standing behind him with a gun to his throat he’d have collapsed, begged them to stop, to use him instead as many times as they fucking liked so long as they stopped hurting Iggy. But that was what they wanted to hear from him, so he swallowed it even though it made him feel like a useless asshole to stand there and watch Ignis being violated.

Cue Ball pushed Ignis’ hair back from his face, as tender as a lover. “I bet your ass isn’t the only hole that feels good.”

 _Oh, fuck,_ Gladio thought.

“Open up,” he commanded. When Ignis refused, breathing hard through his nose, Cue Ball grabbed him hard by the cheeks. “I said open your fucking mouth.”

Ignis made a desperate sound, and Cue Ball punched him in the face, splattering more blood on the ground of the haven and ripping at the hair in Shorty’s grip. Blood sheeted down Ignis’ chin, dripping onto his chest. Cue Ball grabbed him again by the face, pushing his fingers into Ignis’ cheeks until with a pained cry Ignis had no choice but to open his mouth.

“That’s better,” Cue Ball said. He glanced at Gladio, smirking as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock with his free hand. “Now, don’t you even think about biting, otherwise _my_ friend over there is going to put a bullet right through _your_ friend’s skull. Do you understand?” When Ignis didn’t respond, Shorty shook him by the hand in his hair, driving hard into his ass. “Do you fucking understand me?” Cue Ball repeated.

Ignis nodded, and Cue Ball stepped forward, sliding his dick between Ignis’ open, quivering lips, deep enough that Ignis gagged right away. Cue Ball pulled out a bit and thrust back in, his rhythm irregular until he finally found his pace with Shorty. They were both going at him, shoving in at the same time, Ignis making choking sounds every time Cue Ball’s cock hit the back of his throat. And the two of them were grinning, watching each other fuck Ignis from different ends. Every time he thrust in, Shorty pushed Ignis’ face forward with a hand on the back of his head, forcing his nose into the thick thatch of Cue Ball’s pubic hair. In the middle of all the horror, Gladio had to wonder what the hell could turn men into these monsters. He wondered what these men had seen, what had happened to them, that they could get pleasure from doing something like this.

“Isn’t that enough?” Gladio whispered, his voice breaking as he heard Ignis gag around the cock in his throat. 

“No,” Handlebar Mustache said. “I haven’t had my turn yet.”

The alternative, that nothing had ever happened to them and they were just using the apocalypse to unleash their darkest desires was too sick for Gladio to think about. The practically euphoric glow in Cue Ball’s eyes as he fucked Ignis’ mouth was too sick to think about. What Gladio was feeling was sick too. Watching Shorty’s face twist in orgasmic bliss, his hips stuttering as he came in Ignis’ ass, Gladio could only think about cutting him into pieces bit by bit, cock first, until he was begging Gladio to kill him. 

Shorty pulled out, sprawling back with his softening, blood-covered cock hanging out of his pants, while Cue Ball kept fucking Ignis’ face. Bandana was already hard again, stroking his dick as he watched Cue Ball go. Mermaid Tattoo stood as impassive as ever, his arms crossed over his chest and the firelight flickering over his grizzled features. Behind Gladio, the heat of Handlebar Mustache’s body was an unwelcome presence. His breath panted heavy and hot in Gladio’s ear.

Cue Ball curled his hands around the back of Ignis’ head, cradling Ignis in a mockery of tenderness, pulling him to meet Cue Ball’s hips with every thrust. The tears were streaming down Ignis’ face now, though Gladio couldn’t be sure if that was because of the whole ordeal or just his gag reflex being activated over and over. He was still fighting, though. Gladio could see the resistance in every line of his body, in the hands that pushed back against Cue Ball’s hips, in the struggle it took Cue Ball to drag him forward and force his cock deeper down Ignis’ throat.

When he came, he pulled out and let the last few spurts of his cum splatter on Ignis’ chin and chest. Finally released, Ignis fell to his side, gasping and sobbing, barely propping himself up on one elbow. Maybe that would be enough for these animals. Maybe they’d leave Ignis alone now.

But then Mermaid Tattoo stepped forward, uncrossing his arms. Gladio’s stomach found a way to drop further. The others had worn their gross desires on their sleeves, gleefully stripping Ignis like a pack of rabid voreteeth and diving in like vultures on carrion, but not this guy. This guy was dangerous because you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. You couldn’t tell what he was going to do next. As he stood over Ignis, his hand slowly unfastening the buckle of his belt, Gladio knew somehow that whatever was about to happen would be a thousand times worse than what had already happened.

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself much,” Mermaid Tattoo said softly. He placed a boot on Ignis’ back and pushed him flat on his stomach against the ground, drawing a groan out of the blind man. “That hurts my feelings.”

Bandana grinned wildly, looking down at Ignis. “Let me have another go at him, boss. I’ll make sure he likes it.”

“You’ve had your turn,” Mermaid Tattoo said, flatly. He unzipped his fly and slipped a hand into his underwear, pulling out his erection. “Get him back on his hands and knees,” he instructed, with a jerk of his head.

Cue Ball and Bandana were quick to act. Cue Ball grabbed him by his hair, wrenching his head up, hard enough that Ignis bared his teeth again in a grimace of pain, his hands instinctively going up to the fingers in his hair. As Mermaid Tattoo stroked himself slowly, his cold eyes surveying the scene, Bandana lifted Ignis to his knees. The haven floor under him was stained dark with blood. Gladio could see it smeared down Ignis’ chest and belly, oozing down his thighs. At least the blood pouring from the gunshot wound in his leg had slowed.

They’d have to get that looked at by a doctor, and soon. Otherwise they’d have bigger problems than what these animals were currently doing to Ignis.

Mermaid Tattoo knelt behind Ignis and ran a hand feather-light down his front, almost in a gentle caress that was somehow more twisted than the brutality that had come before it. Then he grabbed Ignis’ flaccid dick, squeezing and stroking him. Ignis cried out, jerking against the men holding him. Gladio swore right then and there that he’d kill every last one of these fuckers, even if it cost him his own life. He was helpless to stop them from taking what he’d wanted Ignis to give him freely, but he wouldn’t be helpless when they were done having their fun. He’d track them to the ends of Lucis if that was what it took. 

“You think you’re better than us?” Mermaid Tattoo snarled, tugging at Ignis’ cock. Ignis made a choked sound, trying to push Mermaid Tattoo’s hand away but it was useless. “Think you’re too good to bend over and take it?” he asked, pressing his face in towards Ignis’, until Ignis could go no further to pull away. “I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll be dreaming of my cock,” he hissed, moving sharply to press a swift kiss to Ignis’ cheek. 

Ignis recoiled, his teeth bared, and Gladio’s stomach heaved. These guys didn’t get their pleasure from Ignis’ body. It wasn’t about sex. They wanted to degrade him and grind him into the dirt under their heel, show him in the worst way possible how much power they held over him and they were doing the same thing to Gladio. They had no way of knowing Gladio’s true feelings about Ignis, but at the very least they knew they were forcing him to stand by like a useless bag of shit and watch his friend be violated. That was what they were getting off on.

So even though Mermaid Tattoo kept groping between Ignis’ legs as he rammed into him, Gladio knew it had nothing to do with getting Ignis off. He wanted to force Ignis’ body to react so he’d be ashamed and always wonder if some small part of him had wanted it.

Gladio grinded his teeth as Mermaid Tattoo fucked Ignis as pitilessly as the others had, one hand raking blunt, dirty fingernails down Ignis’ back as the other kept trying to get a rise out of him. It wasn’t working. He figured Ignis was numb with pain and shock. All the tendons in his neck were straining. Gladio could see him furiously chewing his lower lip as his head hung down between his arms. He was practically knocking into the haven floor with every thrust into his ass. There was no way Ignis could get an erection like this.

Mermaid Tattoo was grunting with exertion, and beneath that, Gladio could hear Ignis making soft, stuttering sounds, like he was too tired to stop them being fucked out of him. He dropped to his elbows, his whole body shaking involuntarily as his hands balled into fists and he rested his forehead on them. Gladio swallowed, wanting to cry and refusing to let himself because these bastards would only enjoy it. Ignis looked to have surrendered, like he’d decided to just give up and let them get it over with. Above him, Bandana was jacking off, watching what Mermaid Tattoo was doing with a crazy look in his eyes. 

Then Mermaid Tattoo came suddenly, stiffening and burying himself to the balls in Ignis before pumping out a few final thrusts. Ignis collapsed to the haven floor as Mermaid Tattoo released him. He still had enough fight in him to reach out, his hands scrabbling weakly on the ground, looking for his blades. They were lying well out of his reach, near the edge of the haven. 

“Guess that means it’s my turn,” Handlebar Mustache said into Gladio’s ear.

Gladio shuddered, his throat dry and his hands sweating, watching Mermaid Tattoo as he put himself back in his pants and swaggered over to where he and Handlebar Mustache were standing. No one bothered to go and hold Ignis down again while they swapped over, no one needed to. Mermaid Tattoo pulled the gun out of his holster and pointed it at Gladio’s face.

“You’re up,” he said, his eyes moving to Handlebar Mustache. “Fuck him good.”

The gun jammed into Gladio’s throat disappeared, and Handlebar Mustache eagerly sauntered over to where Ignis lay in a heap on the ground, already dropping his pants. He roughly grabbed Ignis by the hips and tugged him back onto his knees. Grinning at Gladio, he slapped one of Ignis’ ass cheeks hard.

“You ever had this ass?” he asked.

Gladio flushed, his stomach giving a horrible lurch, but he couldn’t say whether it was with rage or shame. He’d wanted Ignis, he’d wanted to make love to him slow and sweet with Iggy’s hands in his hair, and now wanting him felt dirty. “You’re fucked up,” he snarled.

Handlebar Mustache pushed a finger between Ignis’ ass cheeks, making Ignis’ body lock up and Ignis give a choked gasp. When he brought it out again, it was wet with blood. He rubbed it with his thumb, sneering at Gladio. “Answer the fucking question.”

Gladio let out an angry, helpless snarl, his fingers twitching at his sides but he didn’t dare make a move when Mermaid Tattoo still had his gun trained on him. “...No.”

“Bet you _wish_ you’d had this ass,” Handlebar Mustache said, and sank his cock into Ignis. He closed his eyes as he bottomed out, pleasure writ across his face. “Oh, yeah. That’s good.” He opened his eyes again and grinned at Gladio. “Maybe you can have a go when we’re done with him.”

The ringing in Gladio’s ears drowned out everything else, and he watched Handlebar Mustache violate Ignis like they were actors on the television. Ignis bore it, bore the indignity and the devastation with just a few grunts of pain, his fingers curling and uncurling against the stone of the haven as if he was trying to focus on that movement instead of what was happening to him. It might have gone on for hours, Gladio watching with his heart thundering in his ears and his skin prickling all over, or maybe it lasted for only a few minutes. Gladio didn’t know. He could barely see past the tears in his eyes, and he was half crazy with rage and despair, unable to think straight.

Just not crazy enough to do anything about it.

He didn’t realize Handlebar Mustache had finished until the cold barrel of Mermaid Tattoo’s gun pressed into his forehead. He snapped back to himself with a nasty start, looking first at Ignis sprawled on the ground covered in blood and fresh cum, his body shuddering. Then he looked at Bandana, standing over Ignis with a sated look on his face, tucking his cock back inside his pants. Then at Mermaid Tattoo, smirking at him as he cocked the hammer on the gun. 

“Your turn,” he said, softly.

Gladio looked at him stupidly, all coherent thought fleeing his mind. “What?”

“You’re going to fuck him,” Mermaid Tattoo said, nodding over his shoulder at Ignis. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

All the blood drained from Gladio’s face. “No,” he said. “Fuck no. I’m not laying a hand on him. You assholes have done enough.”

Mermaid Tattoo snapped his fingers. Cue Ball grabbed Ignis by the hair, yanking his head up, drawing a small cry from Ignis, and put a knife to his throat. “Do it,” Mermaid Tattoo said, “or we’ll kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG i'm so sorry Iggy baby and it's not over yet!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio is forced to hurt Ignis

Gladio’s stomach heaved. Ignis didn't say anything, just stared at nothing with his bloody teeth bared in a grimace of pain. His face was streaked with dirt and blood, almost unrecognizable. Even if Gladio could get himself in the mental state to do this he didn't think his body would cooperate.

“I can't,” Gladio started to say. His stomach lurched and his heart hammered. There was no way he could do what they were asking. There was no way he could hurt Ignis too.

The knife pressed into Ignis' throat. It was sharp Gladio saw, but it would still take some force to slice his throat the way they were threatening. He noticed how Ignis' skin gave to the blade, the way Ignis squeezed his eyes shut and his throat moved as he swallowed. “Bet he used to be real pretty before whatever did that to his face,” Bandana taunted. “Picture that if it helps.”

Gladio's hands were shaking and he couldn't get them under control. Adrenaline had taken over, but it wasn’t the good kind you got from a hard won fight. It was the kind you got when were losing and your body knew it. He used to get that feeling when he'd seen Noctis on the ground desperately trying to stop a coeurl from tearing his throat out, or when Prompto had been KO'd on his face and only a phoenix down could help him.

He'd gotten that feeling when Ignis had been a scarred heap in the ruins of Altissia.

“I can't,” he said again, but this time it was a plea. He loved Ignis and a distant dream of a life together when all of this was over had flickered in his chest in the long dark night. It was just the two of them sitting outside a caravan, sipping coffee and watching the sun come up. Or in Ignis’ case, Gladio describing the sun as it warmed Ignis’ skin. It was a small but happy thing and Gladio felt it being taken into the hands of these men and shattered into pieces.

The barrel of the gun butted against the back of his head, warning him or urging him. “We'll kill him now if you don’t hurry the fuck up,” Mermaid Tattoo said, as if Ignis' life didn't matter.

If he didn't do it, Ignis would die. If he did, then Gladio wouldn't deserve to see Ignis ever again. After all Ignis had been through, Gladio didn’t think he could let him die now like this.

The sound that escaped his throat as he moved towards Ignis was almost a sob. His feet were heavy and dragging on the haven floor, reluctant to move. “I'm sorry.” He felt himself choke on the words. There was no forgiving what he was about to do. It might be better than letting Ignis die here and now, bloody and violated with the last thing he ever knew being the hands of these animals on him. At least he hoped Ignis would think it was better when it was over.

One of them laughed. Gladio wasn't sure which anymore. “Get him on his back,” the voice said. “Let him watch his face.”

The bastard with the knife to Ignis' throat removed it for a second to grab Ignis' shoulder and roughly roll him over.

Gladio hesitated when he reached Ignis. The barrel of the gun prodded him in the back of the head, hard. "What are you waiting for?" a voice snarled. It sounded like Mermaid Tattoo, but Gladio couldn’t be sure any more. All he could see was Ignis, naked, bloody, dirty, grimacing in pain. The sound of his own thudding heart couldn’t mask Ignis’ harsh, unsteady breathing. 

Gladio licked his dry lips. He couldn't do this, literally couldn’t because his dick wasn't hard. He closed his eyes and thought about a different Ignis, the one that smiled at him with his eyes, wore a fitted suit and smelled like spicy aftershave. That was the Ignis he fell in love with. 

Gladio moved shaking hands to his belt and willed himself to get it up. If it was only him they'd shoot he'd have let them shoot him. At least that way he wouldn’t have to betray Ignis, only let him down. He knew that wasn’t their style though. Men like this would slit Ignis' throat and make Gladio watch as his last breaths gurgled through the wound and if Gladio was lucky, they'd shoot him then instead of violating Ignis in front of him some more, and _then_ shooting him.

Ignis' life depended on it too, so Gladio thought about whatever would get him erect the fastest, like the women of Lestallum in those work uniforms that showed off muscle and skin. Cindy popped up too, in her yellow jacket, tiny shorts and g-string that always matched her bra. He thought of the singer of that song Noct used to like, the one with red hair and nice perky breasts.

His belt weighed his pants down and he pulled his dick out of his underwear with a cold shaking hand. He was only half hard and his skin felt alien and disgusting, but he stroked anyway, willing some blood into the flesh. Images flickered through his mind of tits and pretty faces, hunter girls he knew.

He hated himself when a memory came to mind of Ignis fresh from the shower in their hotel room, his hair damp and unstyled, hanging around his face. His shirt was half unbuttoned and his sleeves hanging loose, his bare feet padding across the floor as he looked for his socks. Gladio's dick twitched in his hand with a little spark of pleasure and Gladio felt his stomach churn again.

“Fucking get on with it already.”

Someone slapped him in the side of the head and Gladio opened his eyes again, looking down at Ignis, who lay bloody and trembling under him. The knife pressed into the junction between his neck and his chin, reminding him that Ignis’ life was at stake. Gladio swallowed a sob at the sight, his heart breaking over for what Ignis had gone through and what Gladio was about to put him through again. “I'm sorry,” he repeated. 

Ignis' chest shuddered and Gladio saw a tear run down his temple and into his hair. His erection started to wilt again in his hand. He'd thought about touching Ignis a thousand times. He'd jacked off with the image of Ignis under him held in his mind a thousand times and none of them had been like this.

Mermaid Tattoo laughed above him and the gun pressed into the back of his head, pushing him forward. “Do it.”

He gave his dick another couple of urgent strokes, willing it to just hang in there and help him save both their lives, and fuck the cost. Moving quickly wanting to get this over with before his dick shriveled up in his hand again, he lifted one of Ignis' legs so he could reach him.

Ignis’ leg jerked in Gladio’s grip and his hand scrabbled at Gladio’s, trying to push him away. Cue Ball pressed the knife harder against Ignis’ throat, and he bared his teeth. “Don’t.” The sound came out strained and desperate as Ignis turned his head to look at Gladio, to look _right at him_ like he wasn’t blind. “Please.”

Gladio felt everything inside him shatter. Ignis begging Gladio not to rape him too was almost more indecent than anything that had happened tonight. Ignis never cried or pleaded. Ignis clung to his dignity with his teeth when he had to. He’d held on to it with an iron grip after Altissia. He hadn’t pleaded with them to let him stay when they were in Cartanica. He’d _told_ them he was staying.

Now he was pleading and Gladio felt less than human, looking down at the man he was about to destroy and whose love he’d craved.

There was no point apologizing anymore. He found Ignis' torn and bloody entrance and pushed into him. Ignis made a strangled sound, his teeth gritted and his hand shoving at Gladio’s shoulder. That was almost worse than his pleading because no matter how hard he tried and no matter how much Gladio wished he could, he’d never be able to stop Gladio. Sobbing, Gladio thrust in further and Ignis’ head pressed back against the rock, baring his throat to the knife. Heat wrapped around Gladio, the kind he’d imagined in the privacy of a shower and his bed, but it felt too slick and hot.

Gladio closed his eyes and turned his head away so he wouldn’t have to see the pain and betrayal on Ignis' face. The sounds Ignis was making were awful enough. He didn’t want to count every tear that rolled down Ignis' cheek. Knowing he’d caused them was going to stay with him forever.

He stopped once he was all the way inside Ignis and fought the urge to hurl, but his stomach gave a heave and he retched. There was more laughter, and Bandana grabbed a fistful of Gladio’s hair forcing his head around. “Look at him,” he ordered “and fuck him like you mean it.”

Gladio just wanted to scramble away and vomit. He’d never hurt someone he cared about this badly before.. He’d rather be dead, but he’d sacrifice every piece of himself to keep Ignis alive. As long as Ignis was alive he could recover. Gladio didn’t think he’d ever get over this. The sight of Ignis being forced to choke on another man’s dick to spare Gladio from being shot was going to stick with him forever, but Ignis was strong, and once his injuries healed he’d find his dignity and carry on.

Once he knew Ignis was safe Gladio would go and let some Red Giant cleave him in half so he never had to face Ignis again. He didn’t think he could face Ignis or any of the others again after doing this.

He made the mistake of looking down and had to fight back another violent heave of his guts at the sight of his blood-covered dick buried in Ignis’ ass. Ignis had finally gone limp below him and Gladio forced himself to move his hips, holding back a sob. It was like fucking a corpse. Ignis was so limp and unresponsive, even though the movement of Gladio’s hips rocked his body. He hardly even looked like he was breathing. His eyes were closed now. Gladio barely recognized him through all the blood and dirt smeared on his face.

Gladio stilled after a few thrusts, hoping it was enough to satisfy these animals. “You’ve had your fun,” he spat, or tried to, but his voice cracked.

He felt the barrel of the gun press against his neck, right against his spine, and he wished for a second that the finger on the trigger would slip and end this nightmare. “Yeah,” the voice of the gun’s owner agreed. Mermaid Tattoo, Gladio thought, “Now we’re making sure you have yours.”

Gladio’s blood ran cold. If they wanted him to enjoy this did that mean they wanted him to _orgasm_? 

“You think I’m getting off on this?” he snarled. 

A hand went into Ignis' hair and pulled hard, baring his throat to the point of a blade that dug in dangerously into his skin. Ignis' fingers curled against the stone floor, and Gladio heard his choked yelp at the unexpected pain, his chest going still as he held his breath. His throat moved as he swallowed dancing too close to the knife for comfort.

“If you don’t,” Mermaid Tattoo said dispassionately, “we’re going to carve him up and sell him in Lestallum as behemoth meat.”

One of the others laughed, and Bandana palmed his crotch through his clothes again. He’d gotten off on Ignis’ violation more than the others already and Gladio made a mental note to force feed him his own dick when he caught up with him. “After we’ve had a bit more fun with him first,” he said with a leer.

Gladio felt his chest tighten and his heart dropped like a stone into his gut. He didn’t know that they wouldn’t do that anyway. They could do that to both of them and everyone would just assume that they’d died at the hands of a daemon. “I’ll do anything you want,” he said feeling pathetic and disgusting as the words left him, “just don’t hurt him anymore.”

“Then you finish inside him like a good boy,” came the answer mockingly.

Gladio looked down at Ignis and the quiet defeat written across his face. He knew he couldn’t have an orgasm like this. He was already going soft inside Ignis, and he wondered if Ignis could feel how much Gladio didn’t want this. He also knew it wouldn’t matter. He’d already raped Ignis, forced his dick into him like they wanted. It didn’t matter that he didn’t enjoy it. He’d still done it.

He squeezed shut his eyes and kept moving, thrusting slowly into Ignis even though he wasn’t hard anymore. He knew he had to finish or they were going to kill them both, but would they really be able to tell if he orgasmed or not? None of them had used condoms when they’d taken their turns with Ignis, and with the blood and cum running out of Ignis’ ass it was unlikely they’d know the difference.

He squeezed Ignis' leg under his hand as he continued. “I’m sorry,” he said again, even though the words were starting to sound like empty drivel to his own ears. He counted the thrusts he made like they were a workout, and tried to ignore the unwanted shocks of pleasure he got from the friction of Ignis’ passage around him that threatened to stir his dick back to life. The idea that he could get any pleasure from this made him sick. He just wanted to get this over with before these men turned him into something like them and he did start to get off on it. 

When he’d counted twelve thrusts he gave Ignis' leg a warning squeeze, and then thrust into him sharply. A choked cry of pain burst from Ignis' throat and Gladio knew he was going to hear that sound every night for the rest of his hopefully short life. This was his fault. He cared about Ignis more than anything in the world except his sister and he’d made Ignis make that pathetic little barely restrained yelp, and all because he wasn’t smart or strong enough to fight back when he should have.

He thrust in again hard and deep and hated himself for it as Ignis' face screwed up in pain, and then he pushed his hips forward and held them there, trying to make it look like he was actually getting off. After another few short, shallow thrusts, he pulled out, the sound of Ignis fighting back sobs filling his ears and killing his erection for good. 

He crawled a couple of feet away and retched. His dick was covered in Ignis' blood and other men’s jizz, and he threw up on the haven stone. It was nothing but water and bile and the barely recognizable remains of some jerky. It didn’t make him feel any better. It just left him trembling with a bitter taste in his mouth.

The men laughed. Handlebar Mustache clapped him on the back. “Knew you’d get into it,” he said proudly as if Gladio was being shaped in their image.

“Just leave us alone,” Gladio hissed, fighting back the urge to retch again. 

They all laughed and moved away and the relief Gladio felt when he saw the knife leave Ignis' throat almost flattened him to the stone. He didn’t move, his hands shaking beyond use as the men raided their camp again. Their potions, the few strips of jerky they had left and the skull emblazoned buttons off Ignis’ clothes were pocketed in record time.

Ignis lay there, staring as emotionlessly as a blind man could at the black sky overhead. Gladio didn’t know if he was still crying or if he’d run out of tears. All he wanted to do was wrap the strategist up in his arms and kiss all his pain away. 

Ignis didn’t move when Mermaid Tattoo bent down and patted his cheek. “I’d take you with us,” he said “and give you my cock every night until you didn’t know how to live without it.” Gladio’s blood turned to ice at the words, his breath catching in his throat. “But we didn’t think we’d find anything this good out here so I don’t have room for you. Maybe if you’re lucky we’ll find you again someday.”

Ignis didn’t answer. Mermaid Tattoo kissed his fingers and pressed them to Ignis’ lips before he stood and waved his hand at the rest of them. There was laughter as they left, like they were five friends that had just watched a movie or a sporting event. Gladio watched them step off the haven and into the darkness. He hoped they ran into Melusine or something like her. Whatever found them, he wanted it to make a mess, just not enough of one that he couldn’t finish the job himself. He listened until their voices faded into nothingness, overtaken by the chitter of daemons in the dark, and then crawled to Ignis' side.

Ignis was badly beaten, his skin mottled and swollen almost beyond recognition from the punches he’d received in the fight. The wound on his leg oozed blood but at least it wasn’t pouring anymore. Gladio’s first instinct was to check him out, but he hesitated. Ignis probably didn’t want to be touched anymore and Gladio wasn’t a doctor which was what Ignis desperately needed. 

“Ignis?” he murmured. His voice was still strained with held back tears. He didn’t have time to cry right now. Ignis had lost too much blood and Bahamut only knew what kind of damage had been done internally. The slick feeling of way too much hot blood still clung to Gladio’s skin. Ignis needed Gladio’s help, not his sadness.

Ignis didn’t answer but he blinked, one clouded eye closing slowly and opening again, and he breathed slow unnaturally steady breaths. He didn’t respond until Gladio pressed his fingers to Ignis' shoulder and said his name again.

“Don’t touch me.”

His voice was quiet. It wasn’t a demand, but it didn’t sound like a request either. Gladio felt the words lance through his gut and into his heart. He just wanted to gather Ignis in his arms and tell him he was sorry and that he loved him and that he’d make this right somehow. But he couldn’t. There was no way to make this right and Ignis didn’t want to be touched, let alone held.

“We need to get you to a medic,” Gladio whispered. They hadn’t even used condoms, who knew what they might have infected Ignis with? The thought made Gladio’s stomach churn and he held back another heave.

Ignis didn’t move, just stared at the sky as if he could see it, though Gladio knew he was pulling back into the safety of his own head. “There’s an elixir in the car,” Ignis said distantly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Like hell!” Gladio countered. He caught the volume of his own voice a second too late, but it was the way Ignis' eye squeezed shut that threw water on his building anger. “Ignis, you need a _doctor_ ,” he said.

Doctors were in Lestallum, which was both a long way away and where those bastards had been going. Medics were at every outpost though. Gladio would have driven all night to get Ignis to the help he needed but a medic was closer and wouldn’t risk running into those bastards again. A medic would at least be able to treat the wounds.

The other problem was that Ignis wasn’t up to walking, not with a gunshot wound in his leg. He’d need the elixir if they were going to even get to the medic.

“I’m going to get that elixir,” he decided, sitting up to tuck himself back into his trousers with shaking hands. He tried to ignore the blood that covered his cock and fingers, smearing on the inside of his clothes.

“No!” Ignis' voice held a note of panic and he moved to sit up. He gave a sharp hiss of pain and dropped back again, his teeth bared in a grimace before he pleaded, “Don’t leave me.”

Gladio wondered how many times his heart could break. He reached out to touch Ignis then stopped himself. “You can’t walk,” he pointed out, hating himself for it. “It’ll take me half an hour, tops,” he added, doing his best to be reassuring.

“Please don’t leave me here,” Ignis begged, his voice broken, and Gladio could hear the restrained tears. He knew Ignis was going through shock, but not the bloodloss kind, though that was going to come too if they didn’t get him patched up quickly. He was going the emotional kind, where horror and fear took over and made you act illogically.

He’d only ever heard Ignis scared when one of them nearly died on him. He’d never heard Ignis scared for himself before, but he could hear the thought behind the plea. _What if they come back?_

Gladio huffed. Forcing himself to focus on helping Ignis would help him focus. He needed to get Ignis that elixir and then he needed to get him to a medic. He didn’t know what would happen after that. He didn’t know how the world would continue to turn. Everything had changed and none of it for the better.

Ignis didn’t want to be left alone and he couldn’t walk. His clothes were ruined and Gladio doubted he’d be able to put them back on even if he wanted to. Gladio cast his eyes around their overturned camp. The fire still flickered its light and warmth casting the haven in a shifting orange light.

His gaze fell on the sleeping bags, kicked aside by shuffling feet.

“I’m going to have to carry you,” he said. Ignis couldn’t even sit up, so he definitely wasn’t going to hop all the way to the car on his one good leg, but the words _don’t touch me_ echoed in Gladio’s ears.

Ignis looked like he was about to protest, but the only noise he made was a weak sigh of defeat, and he slumped back against the stone in surrender. “Fine,” he said.

It took longer to get Ignis wrapped up in the sleeping bag than Gladio would have liked but he didn’t dare rush. No matter how much Ignis tried to hide it Gladio could see that every movement caused him pain. Sitting up was something he just couldn’t do. Gladio tried not to think too hard about the kind of damage that must have been done to him.

The worst part was the way Ignis recoiled every time Gladio brushed against his skin. He knew that Ignis felt much the same way he did right now…. Filthy and disgusting, like he needed the hottest and longest shower of his life and to burn everything he was wearing. Gladio could feel Ignis' blood drying on his skin and he didn’t know if he was ever going to be able to get rid of that feeling.

He tried to tell himself that Ignis recoiling was nothing personal. Ignis was just brutally raped. But the guilt still stabbed at his chest every time he caught Ignis pulling away from his touch. When Gladio hoisted Ignis into his arms, making sure to keep the sleeping bag between himself and Ignis' bare skin, he tried not to hold Ignis too close against himself. 

The journey back to the car was slow, and Ignis reacted to every sound they heard. He startled with every creak of a distant Iron Giant and every roar of a daemon, even though they were too far away to be a concern. They didn’t hear any human voices. Gladio was relieved at that. He didn’t want to hear any voice except Ignis' until they got back to Hammerhead. 

The car was still where they’d left it, parked safely out of the way. Getting the key out of the wheel well without putting Ignis down was hard and unlocking and opening the door was harder, but somehow Gladio managed it. 

“Okay,” he said once he had the back door open. “In you go.”

He settled Ignis into the car gently, keeping in mind how battered his whole body was. Ignis pulled himself onto his side on the back seat the moment he made contact and tucked his legs in. The movement and position made him look small and vulnerable and Gladio turned away, busying himself with retrieving the elixir.

In the Regalia, Ignis always used to keep cans of Ebony stashed under the seats. Gladio had ribbed him once that the only reason he was so eager to take on a Niff base was because they’d stolen his coffee along with the car. It wasn’t coffee he kept under there now though and Gladio’s fingers closed around the elixir vial.

“Here,” he said, offering it to Ignis. It took a moment before Ignis' hand crept out from beneath the sleeping bag. His fingers were cold when they brushed over Gladio’s, but at least they didn’t flinch away at the touch.

“Thank you,” he said in a whisper. Gladio waited for the sound of the vial cracking and the faint noise of magic washing over Ignis. He watched the sparkling light flow over him and the bruising and swelling recede in its wake leaving Ignis looking a little more like himself.

“Better?” Gladio asked. He still wanted to bundle Ignis up into his arms and take the both of them away to a world where life was safe and he could spend the rest of eternity trying to make it up to Ignis. But he resisted the urge to stroke his tangled hair back off his face or trail his fingers over Ignis' cheek.

Ignis took in a shaky breath before he answered, “Yes.”

Gladio nodded and moved to settle himself into the driver’s seat. “I’m going to take you to Hammerhead,” he said. “You need a medic.” Elixirs were good, but they couldn’t heal internal injuries and Ignis had lost so much blood.

Ignis didn’t reply. He tucked himself back into the sleeping bag. Gladio started the engine and started out, and tried to pretend he couldn’t hear Ignis quietly crying in the backseat.

\---

The water in the tiny caravan shower wasn’t hot enough. Gladio wanted it to scald his skin and boil his flesh, to slough it away down the drain along with Ignis' blood. Dried flakes of blood clung to his hands and his dick, and soap wasn’t enough to remove all the evidence of what he’d done. He picked up the nail brush, which had probably been used by fuck knew how many people before him, but it still had to be cleaner than Gladio felt right now.

He scrubbed it against the soap before he started to scour his fingers in small, furious motions leaving a trail of white foam in their wake. He scrubbed the tips, then under his short clipped nails where Ignis' blood had dried and wouldn’t budge. He inspected each nail before he was done, and then he scrubbed each of his fingers and over his palm and the back of his hand, until the skin tingled and the water burned. Then he changed hands and repeated the process.

He didn’t want one fleck of Ignis' blood, not a single remnant of the man’s torment to remain on his skin. Ignis had stopped crying by the time they got to Hammerhead, and then it was like he’d shut down. Thanks to the elixir he’d been able to limp to the medic’s station in the rest stop. Then he’d dismissed Gladio, telling him in that cut glass accent that his help was appreciated.

It had been cold and impersonal. Gladio had felt his throat tighten. “Iggs,” he’d said, wanting to stay with him while he was treated. He could take him to Lestallum afterwards and get him to a doctor to get tested.

Ignis had barely turned towards him. “I think you’ve lost the right to call me that,” he’d said.

Gladio had felt his insides shut down at the words. Ignis had been his friend for years and Gladio had hoped he could be so much more. Instead, five strange men had come along and destroyed everything he’d wanted them to have together.

He’d been numb when he’d gone to the caravan and stripped off everything he’d been wearing. His clothes bore Ignis' blood and he’d dropped them in the trash as he made his way into the shower.

Ignis hated him. Gladio knew he deserved nothing less. He didn’t deserve Ignis' forgiveness. He’d known that the moment he’d started undoing his belt. 

_Don’t. Please._

The words echoed in Gladio’s head and his stomach gave a lurch. The sounds of Ignis' pained sobs as he’d raped him reverberated in Gladio’s skull and he heaved. He stumbled out of the tiny shower and collapsed over the toilet bowl just in time to puke again and again. Acid and bile filled his mouth and he spat it into the discolored water below.

Then he sobbed until he couldn’t breathe. His chest heaved, his throat ached and his eyes stung. He cried so hard his body shook and his head pounded. The cries tore out of his throat no matter how hard he tried to stop them.

He didn’t know how long he cried. It left his eyes sore and swollen, his nose stuffed and his throat raw. His legs felt weak so he crawled back into the shower, where the water had turned cold, sitting on the floor and letting it rain down on him. 

He wondered where Ignis was, and whether he had he told the medic what had happened. Had he said what Gladio had done to him? Had he gone off to have his wounds treated yet?

Gladio didn’t think he had any right to know. He’d hurt Ignis instead of protecting him. He’d watched him be beaten and raped, then beaten and raped some more, until he’d been too weak to keep fighting or do more than quietly plead with Gladio not to take part, and then Gladio had violated Ignis himself.

Gladio let his head thunk back against the wall of the shower. He hadn’t deserved Ignis, and he never would. Now he’d gone and hurt Ignis in the worst way imaginable betraying his trust as only someone as close as they had been could.

His eyes fell on the nail brush. He’d dropped it when he lurched for the toilet and it lay on the floor of the shower now. With a swallow he leaned over and retrieved it, hesitating only a few seconds before he lowered it between his legs and dragged the stiff bristles hard over his cock scraping away any lingering trace of what he’d done to Ignis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;_; my poor broken boys i'm sorry for doing this to you


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis returns to Lestallum to get treatment.

The truck rocked on the uneven road surface and every movement sent a jolt of pain through Ignis. It would keep him from sleeping at least, but with the way his mind was clouded with the events of the last few hours, he didn’t know if he’d ever sleep again.

He wanted a shower, to wash the blood, the grime and the taint away down the drain. He damned his sightless eyes, not for the first time. At least if he could watch the scenery go by, his mind wouldn’t be replaying everything that had happened over and over again. He could still smell the sour breath of the one who had pinned him to the cold, damp ground with his body weight. He could still feel rough hands pulling at his clothes, fingernails scraping his skin as he fought uselessly, desperate to shake them off.

_I’m sorry._

Ignis swallowed and shifted in his seat. It wasn’t to try and get more comfortable because there wasn’t a comfortable position for him right now. Every movement felt like a stabbing in his guts. The elixir had healed his wounds over so he wouldn’t bleed out, and the medic at Hammerhead, sworn to secrecy, had done what little she could to help.

“You need the hospital,” she’d said after she’d finished her examination. The idea of being touched by another person had brought Ignis to the brink of tears, but he’d blinked them back and explained as little as he needed to about what had happened. “I can set bones and stitch up wounds, but you need an actual doctor to look at this.”

“Is it that bad?” he’d asked, trying to avoid sitting down because it felt like someone driving a fist up through his insides, despite the elixir.

His stomach had sunk as the silence lingered a moment too long, and then she’d said, “There’s a truck heading to Lestallum in an hour. I want you on it.”

She’d sourced him a change of clothes from somewhere, maybe a donation from a hunter passing through Hammerhead. The trousers were a little too loose, and the shirt was a simple, long-sleeved pullover. He didn’t bother to ask about the colors. All that mattered was that he wasn’t wearing the clothes he’d had on when those hunters had come into their camp and...

Gritting his teeth he listened intently to the sound of the engine, willing his mind into silence, letting the steady thrum drown out his swirling memories. Outside there was the creak of passing daemons, their roars and their groans growing closer, then fading away as the truck passed them by.

_I’m sorry._

They’d had a happy start to their adventure. He’d missed Gladio - his voice, his reassuring touch, his simple presence. Work in an apocalyptic world never ended and their duties had kept them apart for months without end. When he’d asked Gladio to accompany him to the ruins, it wasn’t simply out of convenience. It was an opportunity to spend some time with the person Ignis considered his best friend and most stalwart ally besides Noct. The journey would be dangerous, as they all were these days, so he’d asked Gladio because of all the people in this world he trusted Gladio the most.

The time they’d spent together, nine hours of wandering through a fruitless ruin with Gladio’s hand at his arm or his back, had reminded Ignis just how much he’d missed the man. In another life maybe they’d have found the time to be lovers instead of just friends. His touch made Ignis' hair stand on end in the most pleasant of ways, and when they’d been setting up camp his closeness made Ignis itch to touch him. He’d wanted to curl up at Gladio’s side, listening to the rumble of his voice as he talked about Iris like the proudest big brother there ever was.

He’d often wondered if there could be more between them, whether inviting Gladio back to his place to thank him for his efforts would be welcomed. If breaking into the bottle of wine Ignis had kept stored away for a special occasion might loosen his own tongue enough to admit he’d welcome Gladio into his bed as well if he wanted a place there.

He’d imagined many times what it might be like to have Gladio’s hands caress him and how it might feel to have Gladio’s words whispered in his ear. He’d pleasured himself to the fantasy of Gladio inside him.

But now he’d had Gladio like that, and he wasn’t sure he could ever scrub the horror away. He’d held onto his pride even as those men had beaten and violated him. He’d refused to be broken by it, until Gladio had put his hands on him, the weight of his body and the touch of his skin becoming something disgusting. The only thing he’d been able to feel then was the despair of his own breaking heart. He’d never wanted the first time Gladio touched him that way to be like that.

His insides had been so torn up that every touch was agony already but Gladio had hurt him worse than the others. Ignis knew he’d tried to be gentle. His grip hadn’t been bruising and he’d moved inside Ignis with slow shallow thrusts, but no matter how carefully you pressed on battered flesh it would hurt, and Ignis had been battered outside and in. The physical trauma was nothing next to the knowledge that Gladio had willingly done what he’d done.

When it was over Ignis had lain on his back, wondering if he might be allowed to slip away into unconsciousness and never wake up again. But Gladio’s voice had been there, so tender and concerned, keeping him from slipping into oblivion.

The sound of his voice had made Ignis' skin crawl. Shattered hopes that their friendship might become something more turned into something vile and painful every time their skin touched. His presence was sickening to Ignis. He’d trusted Gladio, but Gladio had forced his way into Ignis' abused body and then he’d had the audacity to worry.

Ignis wished Gladio had left him to bleed out on the haven, alone with the daemons. At least that way he wouldn’t be curled up now in the back of an uncomfortable truck forced to awkwardly hold himself half on his side because it hurt too much to sit. They were still seven hours away from Lestallum and at the end of the journey he’d have to recount what had happened all over again.

Miserably Ignis shifted position again, raising himself up on his arms and moving his hips to the other side. His driver for the journey - some unknown errand runner - was mercifully incurious. Maybe he’d been told his passenger was an injured man and saw no need to ask questions. Driving in the dark was more dangerous than it ever was before, and when you weren’t chauffeuring a squad of hunters it was downright suicidal. Ignis hoped the driver was using all his mental faculties for that instead of looking into his rearview mirror and wondering what had happened to the blind man.

Exhaustion tugged at Ignis' mind in waves. He felt rain pounding down on him in a way that would be cool and refreshing if it wasn’t yet another inconvenience. It smelled like salty tears, like the gods themselves wept where Ignis couldn’t. 

He tried to look up from his prone position on the floor, one arm locked behind his back as he tried to fight the bone deep sense of defeat that was settling over him. Someone was holding him down, and there were so many more of them than Ignis could fight. There were footsteps around his head, near his face, ominous as someone stood over him. A dark blur of clothing towered above him.

“I’m sorry,” a voice said, and the face attached to the voice fell into sharp relief. _Gladio._

“No,” he said weakly, “This wasn’t you.”

Hands dug into him. Ignis tried to fight it, thrashing and kicking, anything to escape what he knew was coming next. Then the pain tore through him filling his head with a bright, burning agony, and despite his best efforts he screamed.

His breath caught in his throat as darkness descended. He could hear the truck’s engine but it was almost drowned out by the rapid tattoo of his heart thundering in his ears. The pain was real and so was the sense of being filth encrusted, but that was all. Gladio hadn’t been there in Altissia. Gladio hadn’t stood over him on the altar. He’d dreamt of Altissia many times since losing his sight and they were always vivid, but this was the first time he’d seen any face but Ardyn Izunia’s standing over him in the ruins.

Shifting, he gasped through gritted teeth as pain lanced through his stiff joints. He’d slept for too long in an awkward position. He didn’t know if it was the dream or the pain that had woken him but it was unbearable.

“Fall asleep there?” The voice was male, unfamiliar though friendly enough. The accent sounded Lestallan.

“Yes,” he answered quietly, shifting again. The pain wasn’t abating with the removal of pressure. Instead it had become a sharp persistent ache in his guts.

“We’re about twenty minutes from Lestallum,” the driver said. “You in pain?”

Ignis huffed, but the sound of a completely unfamiliar voice was almost a comfort after the confusion of the dream. He wasn’t alone with his sweat and the memory of what had happened in Altissia, memory he’d never recounted to anyone else except to speak of the highly abridged version that involved him seeing Ardyn’s ship and then falling unconscious. 

“Somewhat,” he admitted.

“Doc said you might be,” came the reply. “I got some painkillers if you want ‘em?”

Ignis actually managed a weak smile at that. “Thank you but no,” he answered. “I expect they’ll give me something stronger at the hospital.”

“All right,” the driver said, “But they’re there if you need them.”

Ignis swallowed over a growing lump in his throat. Painkillers were precious in this ailing world, and yet he’d been offered them. He wondered if the driver knew what had happened to him. “What did,” he began, almost dreading the answer. “What did she tell you of my condition?”

He felt the man’s gaze fall on him and imagined someone that looked somewhat like Noctis peering at him in the rearview mirror. 

“Just that you might have internal injuries,” he said. “You must be a real bad ass to go hunting even though you’re blind.”

Ignis heard a note of awe in his voice. Ignis would probably become a story later - the blind hunter that had to be carted back to civilization after a mysterious accident.

“I used to be,” Ignis said, feeling a grim sort of humor. He’d taken on gods and daemons by the score and now he’d been violated and humiliated by five humans... And Gladio.

“The docs will patch you up,” the man said with easy confidence. “You’ll get back to it in no time.”

Ignis bowed his head, “I hope you’re right,” he said, though he doubted it.

The rest of the journey passed in relative silence. The sounds of daemons beyond the road dissipated into eerie silence and Ignis heard the harmonics of the truck’s engine shift as they entered the tunnel into Lestallum. He knew there were glaives out there standing guard, holding the line and keeping the monsters separated from the humanity sheltered in the city.

Not all monsters could be identified so easily, he thought bitterly. His throat tightened and he breathed, forcing the thought away and instead paying attention to the sounds outside the truck. The movement stopped and the engine cut off. 

“We’re here,” his driver said. “You need a hand getting inside?”

“I can walk,” Ignis replied quietly. He opened the door and breathed in the Lestallan air, still humid even without the sun. Once the city had smelled of sweat, scorched pavement and street vendors’ cooking. Now it only seemed to smell of sweat, fear and exhaust.

The makeshift door in the barricade, which Ignis had been told was made of abandoned cars, lifted with a ratcheting metallic sound. Walking was better than sitting though his insides still ached with his every movement. There were other pains calling for his attention too. His shoulders were sore from his awkward position inside the truck and his back twinged with tiredness. He wanted a soft bed to sleep on. If he did that maybe he’d wake up and find this had been nothing but a vivid nightmare.

Inside Lestallum the city was subdued. The power plant gave off a persistent hum, sounding like the dying cries of the entire city. The cable cars above added their own notes to the sorrowful symphony, a high pitched whine like a wounded animal. Once those noises would have been overlaid with the chatter of hundreds of people. Now they were a soundtrack to what was starting to feel like an apocalypse.

“Here you are,” the driver said by Ignis’ side. 

He’d guided him all the way to the doors of the makeshift hospital that served Lestallum now. It was half made of tents with canvas covering the floor and partly inside a building that had once been a warehouse. Even though it was spilling out into the street it still wasn’t big enough for all the sick and wounded who came looking for help.

“Thank you,” Ignis said, turning towards his driver, the first kind voice he’d heard since this nightmare had begun.

“No problem.” His hand touched Ignis’ shoulder, making his his skin freeze. “The name’s Rufus, give me a call if you ever need a ride.”

Ignis felt like he couldn’t breathe. The hand finally left his shoulder, but he could still feel it there like a brand burning his skin, unpleasant and unexpected. At least he could pass off his reaction as being because of the blindness. “Thank you,” he said again, bowing his head, “I will.”

He heard Rufus turn to leave him at the door and for a second he thought about leaving and finding somewhere to lay his head down for the night. Ignis didn’t want to be poked and prodded anymore. He didn’t want other people to know what had happened to him. He couldn’t stand the thought of sympathetic voices and pitying glances he’d never be able to see. Poor blind man, once the chosen King’s closest advisor, now powerless to stop himself from being ravaged for the pleasure of five hunters.

There was no reason not to leave. He’d taken an elixir so the other injuries he’d sustained would heal in their own time.

“Are you all right?” a soft female voice, maybe belonging to a nurse or a doctor, asked from the boundary of the tent.

Ignis lifted his chin up. “I’m fine,” he said. “I-,” 

The pain in his guts persisted. At the very least he could get some pain relief before he tried to find somewhere to sleep. “I had a run-in with a few more daemons than I could handle,” he forced himself to say. “The medic wanted me to get checked for internal injuries.”

“Do you have any pain?” the voice asked. She sounded young and probably no taller than Iris. Her voice came from around the same height.

“Yes,” he admitted, deciding to make himself be truthful about this at least. “Rather more than I’ve been letting on.”

“Well then,” the woman said, “Let’s get you checked out.”

A warm, soft hand touched the back of Ignis’ elbow and he startled. 

“Sorry,” the woman said. “You’re blind, aren’t you? I’m going to take you to a free bed, is that okay?”

The warmth of her touch didn’t leave but Ignis found he didn’t recoil from it as much as he had with the driver. 

“Yes,” he answered quietly, then followed her gentle urging.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio and Iggy deal with their demons in Lestallum - separately.

Sleep didn’t come easy anymore. In the week since Gladio had parted ways with Ignis he’d lain awake every night, staring at the ceiling with Ignis’ rape playing on loop in his head. Hard as he tried to stop it, the miserable sound Ignis had made as he was used echoed in Gladio’s ears. Handlebar Mustache’s smirking face lingered on the back of his eyelids, taunting him. Squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face under his pillow did nothing to stop the flood of images. _Bet you wish you’d had this ass._

Gladio had wanted him but not like that. _Not like that._

Sometimes he dreamt of Ignis. Not of that night at the haven but of more mundane things, like Ignis standing in the kitchen of his apartment back in Insomnia seemingly oblivious to Gladio’s efforts to communicate. Even when Gladio shouted, his voice slow and distorted, Ignis kept cutting up his vegetables, his back to Gladio like they were separated from each other by glass in an aquarium. Other times he dreamt of Ignis fighting daemons. In those dreams Gladio would try to run to his side, to have his back, but it was like his legs were stuck in quicksand bogging him down.

He woke now from just such a dream, breathless and his heart pounding as if he’d been running a marathon through molasses. Still half asleep, he grabbed for his phone, which he’d left on the pillow beside him. The display said that it was 4am. He’d only managed to sleep for a couple of hours - not unusual these days, between the endless night and his tortured conscience. 

Gladio gave up on sleep, not wanting to return to another dream of Ignis and pushed back the sheet to find his cock tenting his boxer shorts. Guilt washed over him, bringing with it the memory of Ignis crying under him and the too-wrong heat of his body as Gladio fucked him. The room spun and his stomach rolled over. His tongue felt too big in his dry, fuzzy mouth. He was going to throw up again. He staggered to the bathroom where he leaned heavily against the door frame, bile burning in his throat, but he swallowed it, gagging and gulping down huge lungfuls of air until it went away. 

In its wake he felt an empty sort of self-hatred. Ignis had begged him not to hurt him but Gladio had gone and stuck his cock in anyway. Now the fucking thing was still attached to him, a constant reminder of the horrific thing he’d done to Ignis with it. A fresh wave of self-disgust washed over Gladio as he leaned his forehead against the door frame and looked down at the bulge in his underwear, wishing it wasn’t part of him anymore. 

As much as he wanted to grab it and crush it in his fist, meting out the punishment he deserved until tears sprang to his eyes from the pain, he also didn’t want to touch it. A simple touch might feel good. The thought of pleasure made his stomach lurch again, filling him with a greasy feeling of unease. No matter how much he thought he hadn’t wanted it his body had said something different. He’d felt that small spark of pleasure when he’d moved inside Ignis. He couldn’t stop wondering if a part of him had enjoyed what he’d done and he hated himself all the more for that possibility. 

He still wanted to call Ignis. Right now Gladio had no idea where he was or if he was okay. But Ignis probably didn’t want to hear from him and Gladio was too ashamed to make the first move. As much as Gladio hated himself, Ignis probably hated him more, and rightfully. Gladio should’ve let those hunters kill him. If he had he wouldn’t be feeling like shit right now, wanting to see the man he loved and knowing he didn’t deserve to set eyes on him ever again. 

Shaking his head he held his softening dick in a reluctant grip and took a piss. After, he splashed water on his face, running a hand through his oily, matted hair. He hadn’t showered since Hammerhead. Personal hygiene was the last thing on his mind and he was out of shampoo anyway. Leaving his apartment to haggle for a bar of soap at the market seemed like too much effort right now and he sure as hell didn’t think he had the right to look or feel better. Besides he didn’t want to talk to anyone. He was scared they’d take one look at his face and see the crimes he’d committed written all over it.

Back in the bedroom he dressed slowly, digging through the pile of dirty clothes on his floor to find a pair of pants and a jacket. He’d already tossed the clothes he’d been wearing when those men attacked Ignis - when _he’d_ attacked Ignis. They were covered in semen and Ignis’ blood. He could have washed them, but even if the stains came out, Gladio would always know they’d been there and where they’d come from. Better to get rid of them than wear that constant reminder of what he’d done like it was a fucking badge of honor. 

Next he padded into the kitchen and opened the fridge. There wasn’t much in there; a couple of beers, a half-eaten jar of pickled beets and a slab of gighee ham, probably gone bad by now. He knew he should eat but the sight of food turned his stomach. Once they’d gotten back from Lestallum he’d planned to invite Ignis in and crack open the beers to celebrate a successful outing. He’d thought about finally telling Ignis how he felt. He’d imagined kissing Ignis and maybe even taking things a little further if Ignis wanted him to, and now…

Now he felt disgusting for ever wanting those things. It wasn’t enough that he’d physically forced himself on Ignis, oh no. Now he was violating Ignis in his head. He’d been violating Ignis in his head all along.

A fresh wave of darkness crashed over him. Gladio shook himself and slammed the fridge door, turning instead to the box of tea Iris had left him on the counter. With trembling fingers he opened it and pulled out a teabag, dropping it into the stained mug next to the sink. He wasn’t hungry, but he needed something to calm his stomach and put his nerves to rest. 

His phone rang as he was putting the kettle on. For one hopeful second he thought it might be Ignis calling but the display showed Prompto’s number. “Hello?” he grunted when he picked up.

“Heya buddy,” Prompto said, his voice sounding more enthusiastic than Gladio could handle right now. “How’s it going?”

Gladio leaned against the edge of the counter. “Fine. What’s up?”

“I was just checking in. You’ve been ignoring my calls. I wanted to make sure you weren’t eaten by a daemon or anything like that.”

If only. 

If only a demon had taken him out in the ruins. If only he hadn’t agreed to go with Ignis in the first place or made Ignis stop at that haven for the night. If only those men had shot him in the head instead of using his love for Ignis to make him into a monster.

“I’m fine,” he forced himself to say, hoping Prompto wouldn’t hear the strain in his voice. “Just been busy.”

“Too busy to return my calls?” Prompto pressed. “Or Iris’? She’s been worried sick, you know.”

“Yeah,” Gladio grunted. “I’ll text her. Sorry.”

“It’s okay big guy, just… we’d all breathe a little easier if you kept in touch more.” There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Gladio wondered if Prompto expected him to say something, but he just grunted again and waited for Prompto to get to the point. Eventually he did: “So Monica tipped me off to a hunt near Cape Caem. Said there were some Necromancers that needed clearing out. Thought you might be interested.” There was another long pause. “Are you?” he finally prompted.

“Sorry,” Gladio said again, thinking that right now there was nothing in the world he wanted to do less than pretend everything was normal for Prompto. “But no. Don’t got time.”

“Seriously? There’s a lot of gil riding on this,” Prompto said incredulously.

“Some other hunter will be happy to accept it then.”

“Think Iggs might want to join?”

The mention of Ignis' name was like a dagger right to the gut. It left Gladio breathless, his chest squeezing with pain. He had to put a hand on the edge of the counter to brace himself. Wherever Ignis was it was unlikely he’d want to take on this hunt and he’d sure as shit never want to fight beside Gladio again. Because of what Gladio had done, things would never be the same between the three of them and Prompto would probably always wonder why.

“Dunno,” he said gruffly. “Give him a call and ask. I gotta go.”

“Gladio, wait!”

Gladio hung up, tossing his phone onto the counter. The kettle had begun to whistle. With a resigned sigh he took it off the burner and poured some water into his cup, the motions automatic. His head was a million miles away - wondering what Ignis was doing right this minute and if he’d accept Prompto’s call. He didn’t like the idea of Ignis venturing out into the darkness, but he liked the idea of Ignis lying in a bed racked with pain even less. If he was healed enough to hunt, then that was something worth being glad about, he guessed.

The images flooded his head again, in bits and pieces like reflections in the shards of a broken mirror - Bandana cutting Ignis’ clothes off. Bandana on top of him humping away and grunting like a pig. Ignis crying. Mermaid Tattoo taunting him, taunting both of them. Hateful faces, monstrous in the firelight. Ignis bloody and beaten, his teeth bared in agony as he begged Gladio not to hurt him.

Growling Gladio swept his hand across the counter, sending his teacup smashing into the wall next to the stove. Ceramic shards skittered over the kitchen floor and rivulets of tea dripped down the wall like blood or tears. Gladio gripped the edge of the counter top, his breaths harsh and uneven as he tried to get himself under control. Gods if only he could stop remembering what had happened that night. 

But maybe he didn’t deserve to forget. Maybe this was his punishment. Ignis would never want to see him again and the memory of what he’d done would always haunt him, until he lost his fucking mind or put himself out of his misery, whichever come first. Somehow it didn’t seem like punishment enough. It couldn’t ever be enough.

His phone pinged. He glanced at it to see a notification from Iris. Reluctantly he picked it up and opened the message. _Give me a call when you have a minute_ , it said, _We should talk. I’m worried Gladio._

He couldn’t call her. He couldn’t even bring himself to text her despite telling Prompto he would. Contacting her would taint her, make her a part of the awful things Gladio had done. She had no idea what crimes he’d committed, and he was too much of a coward to tell her. He didn’t deserve her love anymore or Prompto’s friendship, especially when he couldn’t be honest about what he really was or what he’d done.

The phone went into his pocket and he left the tea to clean up later. He wandered out into the streets of Lestallum, not bothering to lock his apartment door behind him. He had nothing worth taking in there and if someone wanted to steal his dirty clothes, a handful of potions and the little bag of gil he kept under his pillow they were welcome to it. None of it mattered anymore.

Even in perpetual night Lestallum was vibrant with life. Merchants hawked their wares and groups of hunters sat on patios drinking watered down beer. Couples walked hand in hand and kids played hide and seek in the market. Gladio wandered among them feeling separate, like a ghost lingering among the living. His eyes moving from face to face, part of him hoping he’d find those bastards who’d attacked them at the haven, and the other part dreading it. The thought of them hiding among the citizenry of Lestallum turned his stomach almost as much as the memory of them holding Ignis down and fucking him.

He wandered until the sounds of the city faded and the lights gave way to darkness. The glaives manning the barricade let him pass without comment. They knew who he was. They’d seen him come and go a hundred times or more, a triumphant hunter who’d put his boot on the necks of daemons time and time again and cut a swath through the darkness.

Now it seemed as though the darkness had taken control of him. He walked, only half aware of what he was doing, only half caring until a grim reaper rose out of the ground in front of him, emerging from an indigo mist. It looked at him, and Gladio looked back, sizing each other up like a pair of nocturnal animals that had crossed each other’s paths in the wilderness. The daemon’s scythe glinted in the glow of its miasma, but Gladio didn’t bother summoning his sword. 

Instead he grasped the open front of his jacket in trembling hands and parted it wide, letting the daemon see his bare chest for the invitation it was.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Ignis tipped the bottle out into his hand and counted the pills with his fingertips. Eight left. It wasn’t enough. Painkillers were hard to come by these days so the field hospital rationed its stores to conserve supply. They didn’t want to have to ask patients to bite down on a belt while they were performing surgeries so they only gave their drugs out for extreme cases. Ignis didn’t know whether to be consoled or concerned that he was considered an extreme case.

He had been given sixteen small capsules and was told to use them whenever he needed them. There was a lot of scarring, the nurse had explained. The elixir had healed his wounds and saved him from septicemia but it had left scars. That was why it still hurt so much. The scars meant a loss of flexibility in the tissues, and stretching those tissues now would hurt like pulling stitches. Ignis needed to give his body time, the nurse had said, but she couldn’t tell him how much.

Bowel movements were now an ordeal. His body resisted the relaxation of his damaged muscle, but the clenching of his insides was worse. It felt like passing glass.

He’d been eating more fiber and drinking more water where he could, and though it helped the pain was still intense. The first time had been an agony like being violated all over again. It had sparked a resurgence in his nightmares. For the first two nights he hadn’t slept for more than an hour at a time, waking in cold sweats, his cheeks wet with tears. Their voices had played in his head and each had taken their brutal pleasure while Ignis lay helplessly pinned to cold stone. He’d tasted their putrid flesh as they forced themselves down his throat again.

He’d woken gasping with pain stabbing in his guts, his sobs too loud in the quiet bedroom. Gladio’s voice had been among them, repeating empty words that had done nothing to erase the pain he’d caused. He remembered the feeling of Gladio inside him, forcing himself into Ignis’ abused body and exacerbating the ragged injuries the others had caused. It was Gladio’s fault he was suffering like this.

Ignis considered the pills in his hand for another second before carefully dropping them back into the bottle. There were eight left which meant he’d already taken half of them. It would be better to save the remainder for when he really needed them. He slipped the bottle back into his drawer. 

The apartment he lived in now was tiny, really just a repurposed hotel room, but at the very least it belonged to him alone. He’d done his best to stay inside and out of the way while he “recovered.”

If “recovering” was what you could really call it. The truth was that every time he tried to venture beyond the door, it was an ordeal that made his heart race and his breath come short. It was irrational, but he found it unfathomable that world continued to turn irregardless of his suffering, while at the same time hoping no one would find out what had happened to him. He could still hear those men’s voices in his dreams and feel their hands on his skin no matter how many times he showered. Yet Lestallum got on with the business of existing.

It made Ignis want to scream. It seemed impossible that no one could see the marks his attackers had left upon him, despite his scrubbed raw skin and buttoned up clothing.

His phone rang. Ignis picked his way across the room to the side table skirting the bed and feeling his pant leg brush the frame. He found the edge of the table with his hand and trailed his fingers over the scratched wood to his phone, tapping the screen to answer. “Scientia speaking,” he said as he raised it to his ear.

“Iggs!” Prompto’s voice came through, overly cheerful as always. The sound of his voice made something uncomfortable curl in his chest. Ignis didn’t want to speak to Prompto right now. Of all the people left in the world, Prompto would be the first to notice if Ignis seemed off. “How you been?” he asked. “I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“Busy,” Ignis answered as lightly as he could manage. “Cell reception has been patchy at best.” 

It was an excuse. They’d all found different roles that needed their energy, and maybe Ignis had been too ready to sacrifice time to them that he should have been putting into his friendships. But when he’d reached out to Gladio…

“Still researching the old kings?” Prompto asked.

“Yes,” Ignis replied, feeling guilty. Prompto had done nothing to deserve being ignored. Maybe if he’d invited Prompto to the ruin, things would have ended differently. “I recently returned from a tomb, but I’m afraid the results have been lackluster.”

Prompto made a sympathetic noise on the other end of the line. “I’m sure you’ll find something.”

Ignis felt his throat tighten. He had to find something. Noct’s life was on the line and what had he been doing? Wallowing in his own misery in a single room in Lestallum. “I will,” he said.

“But if you need a break,” Prompto began, using the opportunity to segue into whatever his real reason for calling was, “I could use a hand.”

Ignis felt his skin crawl before he even knew what Prompto was going to ask him. Whatever Prompto wanted, it would involve seeing him and Ignis wasn’t sure he could keep up the pretense of being just fine in person. “With what?”

“Well there’s a bunch of Necromancers near Cape Caem and we’re trying to get people together to take them down. There’s a lot of gil in it for you if you join us.”

Ignis felt his heart thunder in his throat and his skin prickled with sudden cold. A group of unknown men, himself and Prompto. It sounded like his worst nightmare. “I don’t think so, Prompto,” he said. He nearly suggested Prompto call Gladio instead but the words turned to bile at the thought of saying Gladio’s name out loud.

“Really?” Prompto asked, incredulity creeping into his voice. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ignis answered. He realized a second too late that it had come out more curt than he’d intended. He winced, hoping Prompto wouldn’t pick up on it.

“It’s just that you’ve been all, ‘I’ve been fighting in the dark for longer than you’,” Prompto said, poorly imitating Ignis’ accent, “And you’re turning this one down?”

Ignis forced the rising panic in his chest back down. This was exactly why he couldn’t be around Prompto. He was too perceptive of other people’s feelings. “Yes,” Ignis answered, not bothering to hide his clipped tone.

“You sure you’re okay?” Prompto asked, obviously concerned. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Ignis lied even though he knew that it wouldn’t convince Prompto, who was now going to chase this hanging thread until he unravelled it. “As I said I recently got back from a tomb.”

“That never stopped you before.”

Ignis sighed in exasperation. He wasn’t about to tell Prompto what had really happened but what could he say that wouldn’t raise red flags? If he hung up, Prompto would only call back and if Ignis ignored his calls he’d come knocking on Igis’ door. 

“I got injured Prompto,” he said, settling on a heavily edited half truth. “I’m fine but I need to do more training before I take on something as complicated as a group of Necromancers.”

There was silence on the end of the phone for long enough that Ignis wondered if the line had dropped. Then Prompto said “How bad? I mean to make you say something like that...”

Ignis felt his chest tightening. He hated having to lie to one of the only friends he had left but he hated coming so close to the truth even more. “Bad enough that I spent a night in the field hospital. I’ve recovered,” he added quickly, “But it highlighted some gaps in my current ability.”

“Ignis,” Prompto said the name trailing off into sorrow. “You sure you’re okay now?”

“Yes,” Ignis insisted. Maybe if he said it often enough he could start to believe it himself.

“Okay,” Prompto said, finally giving up. “You know, I’m you can call if you ever want someone to help you out on a trip. Gladio too I bet. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

Ignis bowed his head, grimacing at the sound of Gladio’s name. “I’ll try to remember that,” he said. “I’m sorry I can’t be of assistance. I hope you find someone soon.”

“Yeah,” Prompto replied. “Give me a call when you’re up for it.”

Would Ignis ever be up for it? The idea of taking on a hunt with Prompto made his stomach roll but was that because of everything going on a hunt implied - like staying at a haven, sharing a tent with other men, lack of access to modern plumbing, and maybe the risk that Gladio would tag along too. With bitter humor Ignis realized he’d never have to lay eyes on the man again, but hearing his voice? Feeling the accidental brush of Gladio’s skin? It made his skin crawl.

A wave of nausea crested up Ignis' throat. He pushed it back down forcing himself to promise, “I will. Good luck.” 

He hung up the call and set the phone down on the table. He desperately needed a shower again. He could feel the memory of hands grasping his thighs, spreading him open again, and he choked in disgust.

Would these feelings ever go away? No matter how many times he showered, those rough, ghostly touches never left him alone. They only faded for a while until he awoke the next morning tasting the cock that had been forced down his throat.

Had his disability been an invitation to them? They’d forced Gladio to watch as they’d stripped and violated him. At the time that had almost been worse than the violation. The pain and intrusion he could handle because after all he’d suffered worse injuries. But the indignity of it, the fact that Gladio had seen him so helpless had been devastating. He’d fought so hard to regain his ability to fight and care for himself after going blind. He’d refused to be a burden on anyone least of all Gladio, and then there he was, with vicious hands grabbing at his skin while their owners used him.

He’d chosen not to have blood tests. He knew he should have but that would mean admitting to the terrible thing those men had done to him. Ignis wasn’t ready to let people know how useless he’d been at defending himself. All his years of training for the Crownsguard, all those months of fighting by Noct’s side, and what use had they been? In the end was just a helpless blind man, easily overpowered and used for the sick gratification of some unknown men.

He should have fought harder. If it had been Noct’s life on the line, what would he have done? What use was he to anyone if he couldn’t find it in himself to fight off a few mortal men? The threats the world now faced were far worse than a group of rogue hunters. Noct would face far worse than them. Ignis was no use to him if he couldn’t fight.

He whirled around and retrieved his stick. He didn’t need it when he was indoors and he hadn’t been taking it on hunts because it only got in the way, but when it came to navigating the city it was a lifeline. He knew he’d have to stop using it. He relied on it too much. He relied on others too much.

He paused with his hand on the doorknob. Beyond was Lestallum, a city full of strangers. It was the still-beating heart of an ailing world and all the life on Eos flowed through it, for better or worse. He hadn’t stepped beyond this door in days because the city was frightening. The people it contained were frightening.

But Ignis couldn’t be a prisoner to fear. If he stayed in this room he might as well go ahead and die, but he couldn’t do that. He had a responsibility to Noct. He was the only one that knew what lay ahead for Noct. He was the only one that could prevent him having to pay the price fate demanded.

Maybe the Astrals could be convinced to accept another life, one willingly given instead. If Ignis could find no other alternative then at least his weak, pathetic existence could be of some use still.

He pulled open the door exhaling shakily before he stepped out. The corridor smelled like urine, body odor, stale beer and despair. He stepped into it, locking the door behind him and using his stick to make his way down the hall. Cans rolled under his feet, empty and echoing as he swept his stick over the floor.

When he exited the building it was worse. Voices filled the air low and hushed, some of them falling silent as he approached. People moved out of the way of his cane like it was a beacon, warning them of his helplessness. His skin pricked unpleasantly at the sound of male voices. He could feel eyes on him watching him pass.

_We’ll carve him up and sell him in Lestallum as Behemoth meat._

Those men could be out here with him - ahead of him, behind him, maybe beside him. Ignis' heart pounded in his throat at the thought. Each male voice he heard sent a shiver of panic up his spine as he tried to place it. Did this one belong to the one that had violated him first? Did that one belong to the one that had groped between Ignis’ legs while he’d raped him? He’d been so sure he’d know their voices if he heard them again. After all he heard them every night while he slept but now he found himself second guessing every man he heard. 

One particular voice in the crowd was like fire along Ignis' nerves as he passed one of the many bars selling stale beer and moonshine. “Next job’s in Meldacio,” it said. _I bet your ass isn’t the only hole that feels good._ Ignis remembered it with crystal clarity - those words and rough hands on his face, stroking his hair back and forcing his mouth open.

Sweat broke out over Ignis' skin as he felt his insides freeze. His heart beat erratically in his chest.

“Some ex-Niffs there need a hand,” the voice said and broke into a deep laugh. “We’ll show ‘em how Lucians fight!”

No, Ignis thought, that couldn’t be one of them. The voice he remembered was rougher, harsher. Alcohol had softened and slurred this man’s consonants. The voice was similar enough to be convincing on first hearing, but the more he listened the less it sounded like one of his attackers.

He fought to catch his breath. His chest was tight and uncomfortable and his head swam with panic. He was no use to anyone like this.

His legs felt like lead as he forced himself to walk, taking each step carefully. He wanted to run away from the sound of that man’s voice and the memories it evoked, but each step seemed to take forever.

His heart was still thundering by the time he reached Glaive HQ. 

“Ignis,” Monica’s voice was a familiar balm soothing he frayed nerves. “It’s good to see you. You looking for a hunt?”

“Actually,” Ignis began, careful to keep the tremor from his voice, “I was hoping you could spare the time to spar?”

“The Marshal might be able to help you with tht,” Monica said.

Ignis smiled at her, glad his dark glasses would keep her from seeing how it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think I’ll have to work up to that.”

He could feel a change in the air even before Monica spoke. She was a proud and experienced member of the Crownsguard, more experienced than Ignis and he respected her as much as he respected the Marshal. He knew not to take her lightly. 

“I hope you don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’re blind,” she said.

“I would ask you to do no such thing,” he answered.

“All right,” Monica answered. “Give me twenty minutes.” Ignis nodded, about to thank her when she asked, “What brought this on?”

Ignis ignored the dry tightness in his throat and made himself stand straighter. “The daemons won’t take it easy on me, so it’s about time I found a sparring partner that won’t either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for continuing to read! ｡^‿^｡

**Author's Note:**

> omg my 1st ever fic on ao3!!! i'm really nervous you guys and i tried so hard on this. i hope you like it!!! it's going to get a lot worse from here but i promise it gets better later. I PROMISE. gladio loves iggs so much THEY'LL GET THRU IT.
> 
> poor iggy ;_;


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